World Without a Superman
by Chris St Thomas
Summary: Ch 21 most recent. At length, I finally took a twenty minute jog from Metropolis down to Washington, DC to the Amazon Embassy, to check on the prisoner and an Amazon friend. A reimagining of the Death and Return of Superman storyline with characters from Justice League, Terminator, and Smallville TV. Co-written with Metropolis Kid. Please Comment and Review.
1. Prologue: Forging Steel (Part One)

**2015 Author's Note 1- **This story was originally written back in 2008/2009. It's influenced by the Justice League characters, the Terminator movies, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, the Richard Donner and Bryan Singer Superman movies, the Smallville TV show and also by classic DC Comics storylines 'Death of Superman,' 'World Without a Superman' and 'Reign of the Supermen.' Metropolis Kid started as an experiment and within a few days, took me on as a co-writer. With both of us working on it together it blossomed from a single chapter into a 126,000+ words. It contains some of my best work.

**Backstory**: We've moved Superman Returns to 1997. This takes place in 2007 starting a month after Superman's fatal battle with Doomsday. Lois Lane, her husband Richard White (nephew of Perry White) and her son Jason White have been traumatized by Superman's death. Richard White has moved his family west to Los Angeles, hoping that a new start will help them cope. And just so you know, I've set Jason's [Jason White, Superman and Lois Lane's son from Superman Returns] powers a little bit bellow golden age levels. That means no flying, freeze breath, heat vision or x-ray vision, and his maximum lifting strength is about 10,000 pounds (5 tons). If you've watched the movies were Superman's lifting continents and moving moons, this may seem a little weak. However, keep in mind that Jason's only fifteen and half human.

**Prologue: Forging Steel Part 1**

Original A/N – This chapter takes a bit of a wider view, to recap events from the Superman universe which brought us to where we currently find ourselves. Your Pilot for this leg of the trip will be Chris St Thomas. Navigator will be Metropolis Kid. Flight Engineer will be Dragonlots.

**POV: Hank Aaron Jefferson**

A month ago, the nightmares stopped. But I almost died.

I was up fifty floors above the streets of Metropolis in a building under construction. Guiding in a girder, I gave hand signals to the crane man.

_They're always building something tall in this town, the Big Apricot. That was why I moved here from California when I saw how my designs were __**really**__used at Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and quit._

A huge gust of wind blew; I lost my balance and fell. My safety line somehow malfunctioned and I felt free fall. In resignation, I greeted Death as the street slowly drifted toward me.

Like a slow motion movie, I watched Superman in the street below. He was locked in a life or death struggle with an ugly gray monster whose bones stuck out of its shoulders, neck, back. The monster hit him with a wallup of a punch, knocked him up in the air. I locked eyes with the Man of Steel as I fell. He righted himself and flew over to pluck me out of free fall.

The Son of Krypton set me down on the ground with a teenager in a Halloween costume. The young man wore a costume of red and blue with black lines on it. At the time, I couldn't think of which movie hero's uniform it was_._

"Thank you for my life, Superman!" I called out as Superman began to rise up into the air.

"Make it count," the Man of Steel said in that quiet, assured way he has. It's like he has no doubt I'll do the right thing. It's as though he x-rayed my soul and saw I had greatness in me. Okay, I know I'm reading into the last part. But still...

As soon as the Man of Steel handed me off, the kid guided me to an ambulance where a medic flicked a light in my eyes, checked my pulse and gave me an IV.

The youngster didn't sling webs or climb walls, but he was incredibly fast and unbelievably strong. He just ran up and down the street, pulling casualties out of the rubble and grabbing more supplies for the medics. I thought I heard one of the Rescue Squad say something like, 'Aren't you on the wrong side of the River, kid? Spider-Man works in Manhattan, not Metropolis.'

The Metropolis Marvel flew back into the battle. I heard the crashing pops and painful cracks echoing between the towers of glass and steel as the medic treated me. A stunned hush descended over the whole of downtown as the bone-jarring sounds drifted into the distance.

A transmission came over the emergency band in the Ambulance where the medics were treating me. "Superman is down." The medics, the whole Rescue Squad froze.

Transmissions continued over the emergency band. "Reporter Lois Lane is running out of the crowd." Different voices described what they saw.

"Hey Rookie! Let the lady through, and her photographer friend, too. Is Kent with them?" came the grizzled voice of a veteran cop. He had no doubt cooperated with Lane, Kent and Olsen many times during the years they covered the Police Beat. They probably solved some cases together, too.

"She's calling for medics... Rescue Two go see what you can do."

"Superman's waived us off, sir. The Man of Steel is taking Miss Lane's hand and breathing his last."

I saw Jimmy Olson's photos of Superman's Final Battle all over the newsstands and networks for days.

Superman was dead. So was the monster, Doomsday they called it, but the public hardly cared about the creature who had killed their beloved hero. They mourned the Son of Krypton.


	2. Superboy Meets World

**Chapter 1: Day one Part one: A New School**

Disclaimer: I don't own any material contained within this story. All copyrighted content remains the property of the person, people, or organization that holds the copyright. This story is solely for fun.

Day one. Part one: A New School.

Jason White's Point of View.

I step out of my mothers car and head toward my new school. My mother insists on driving me on my "first day going to a new school." Although, I don't know why. It's not like I'm going to get lost and start aimlessly wandering the streets of LA, but she's always been overprotective.

I look up and notice clouds gathering in the sky. Great, it's going to rain. I hate rainy days. I find them depressing, and I'm already depressed enough. Well, I suppose most people find the rain depressing, but with me it's not just because of the psychological effects. I'm a little bit physically weaker during rainy days. The clouds block out too much of the sun's rays.

I reach the school's front steps. One of the other teenagers points at me and laughs, "Look at the dork in the superman t-shirt." His friends, or at least what I presume to be his friends, start laughing along. I ignore the jerk and walk inside.

Normally I don't walk around in Superman t-shirts. It's a little to on the nose for my taste, but today's different. It's the one month anniversary of my father's battle against Doomsday, and the t-shirt that I'm wearing is a special one. It's black with a dripping, blood red S.

The city of Metropolis gave one to each resident on the day of Superman's funeral. "To commemorate his great sacrifice." Some people used the shirts to make a quick buck. I found several on Ebay the next day. It made me sick. The man gave his life to protect them, and all they cared about was how they could use his death to turn a profit.

I'm directed through a metal detector. It goes off, and I empty my pockets. One of the school security officers picks up my Swiss army knife. "And what do we have here? Planning on starting trouble mister?" Like I really need a knife for that. Even if I was going to use a knife, it certainly wouldn't be a short bladed Swiss army knife. I just carry it around in my jacket. You never know when a screwdriver or can opener will come in handy.

I answer respectfully, though. "Sorry, I forgot it was in there."

The man looks at me. "I don't remember seeing you here before."

"I just transferred." I look up without quite meeting his eyes. "It's my first day."

"Well don't let it happen again," the security man says in a gruff tone

"I won't." I say, looking down at the knife on the table between us.

"Good. You can move along now." He gestures for me to continue into the high school.

"Yes, sir." I start to move along and then turn back to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time. "Were should I go to get my knife back once school's over?"

The man smirks, "Sorry kid. Once we confiscate something, you don't get it back."

I resist the urge to wipe the smirk from his face and continue on. I can already tell that I'm not going to like it here.

The classes aren't bad, just your typical high school stuff. Algebra, history, chemistry, nothing that I don't already know. Given the speed that I can read and think at, I probably know more than the teachers. That makes the classes somewhat boring, but they are still the best part of my day so far.

The day's half over before my luck goes bad again. I'm in the cafeteria, trying to choke down what I can only describe as a meat paste, when the jerk from before comes over with his friends. "Hey Superboy, whatcha eatin'?"

"Why don't you just go away." I reply, not looking up from my cafeteria tray.

On of the jerk's pals asks, "What, is something bothering the little Superboy?"

Now, I've tried to be patient, but I'm just about fed up with this school and the people in it. "Yeah, you."

"Oh, tough guy." A third friend pipes up. "What, you gonna melt me with your heat vision."

"No," I reply in straightforward tone, "but I might throw you across the room if you don't leave me alone."

The punk's friends begin to flank me. "Really, tough guy?" The first jerk says, "Then bring it on."

I'm just about to teach the jerk a lesson he wont soon forget when a little voice speaks in the back of my head. 'Humans are frail creatures. You must never use your powers out of anger.' It's the voice of my father.

When I was five he told me that I would carry him inside me all the days of my life. It took years before I truly understood what that meant. A part of him will always be watching over me, a whisper in my head trying to keep me from doing the wrong thing. Even though my father's body has died fighting Doomsday, that part of him is still with me. If anything, it seems to have grown stronger after his passing.

I exhale and slowly stand up. "You know, sometimes it takes more strength not to fight." I turn to walk away.

"Is that what Superman taught you?" I stop. The kid continues, "Pretty wimpy advice if you ask me."

Now, it's one thing to insult me. I can handle that; well, mostly. But now the little punk is insulting my father. I turn.

The jerk keeps going, "I guess that's why he got himself killed, huh? He was just too much of a wimp to handle a real fight."

That is just too much. I lift the jerk by his coat and hurl him into a wall. His friends attack.

If I wasn't so angry, I'd almost feel sorry for them. I throw them around like rag dolls. That little voice is still in the back of my head, making me pull my punches and ensuring that I don't actually kill anyone.

I notice that a crowd has begun to gather around and watch the fight, if you can even call it that. The people seem to be enjoying the spectacle. I hear various cries of: "Oh, yeah.", "That's gotta hurt" and "Ooh, wouldn't want to be him." Whether the crowd's happy because these punks bothered them as well or they're just excited to see a fight, I don't know. However, I suspect the latter. Truth be told though, I don't much care. "This kid fights like Nightwing." One of the punk's friends says, and leads the others outside the circle of on-lookers.

I'm standing over the jerk who started it now. I put my foot on his throat. "Take it back."

"Take what back?" I'm not sure if the idiot's in a sate of shock or just being stubborn. I choose to believe the second.

I wasn't there to help my father when he fought Doomsday. Well, I was there, but I didn't help. The monster had already put Batman, Flash and Hawkgirl in the hospital by that point. And Green Lantern was off world, as usual. It was jumping across towns, demolishing skyscrapers and tearing through tanks like they were made out of cardboard. I've got trouble just lifting my grandmother Martha's tractor, at the farm in Smallville, KS. What could I have done? Besides, I figured that my father could handle it. He was Superman after all. There had never been anything he couldn't handle before. Even then he managed. He killed that monster, but the victory took everything he had to give, and more. He died. If I had been with him. If I had helped him. If I had just done what little I could have, would it have been enough to tip the scales? Would it have been enough to save his life? I've asked myself that every night since that battle, and I still don't know the answer. But even if I couldn't have saved him, at least I can insure that these punks don't get away with dishonoring his memory.

I apply a little bit more pressure. "Take back what you said about Superman. Or, I'll crush your voice box; and you'll never say anything again."

It's then that a kid wearing a Flash T-shirt breaks through the crowd. "Just calm down. He's had enough."

I push against the kid's chest and pin him to the wall. "You shouldn't get involved in other people's fights." That voice cuts in again. 'Why not? I did all the time.' I respond, 'That's different.' It replies, 'Really, stepping in to protect someone from another who is obviously stronger than them? It sounds pretty familiar to me.' I calm down.

I'm about to let the kid go when I hear a girl say, "You will not hurt John." Something impacts my arm. My elbow bends and I release the kid. I turn to find out what could've possibly hit me hard enough to cause that kind of reaction.

I'm shocked to see a small girl grab my jacket and spin me around with enough force to pull my feat from the ground. She releases me, and I go flying, not the controlled kind either. When I land, I crash strait through a table. I'm not really hurt, just surprised. This girl, who doesn't look like she could bench more than a hundred pounds, just threw me across the room.

The girl's still coming. I stand up, and she hits me in the gut. The punch knocks the wind out of me for a few seconds. She uses the time to pull down my head and knee it. I hear a cracking sound and my nose starts bleeding. I think it's broken. I've never had a broken bone before. Just what's going on here, anyway.

I regain enough of my senses to dodge her next attack. I manage to get my foot around hers and trip her in the process. My nose has already healed, but it's not straight. In the blink of an eye, I grab it; and as I lock it back into place, I hear another cracking sound. The girl's still on the ground, but I'm hesitant to press my advantage.

I know how much force I can apply, without being lethal, under normal circumstances. However, these aren't normal circumstances. I'm still trying to decide what to do, when her legs go up. She kicks me in the chin, and I go down. She's on top of me in an instant. Her hands go for my throat. I grab them. I can't believe it. I'm actually struggling to hold them back. Just where is this girl from?

It's then that the kind kid from before screams, "Cameron stop!" The girl stops. After a few seconds, I let go of her hands. the kid comes over. He actually asks me, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I answer. "Do you think you can get your girlfriend off of me?"

He turns to the girl.

She says, "He could still be a threat."

"Cam, let him go." The kind kid says. She gets off. He extends his hand and helps to pull me up. Not that I can't get up on my own, mind you; but it's still a nice thing to do.

I feel like a total jerk. I let my anger get away from me and attacked a nice kid who was only trying to break up a fight. "Hey, sorry about before. I was just upset and…"

"Don't worry about it. Are you sure that you're okay?" The kid seems genuinely shocked that I'm alright. I suppose that if a normal teenager had just gone three rounds with the kid's girlfriend, they'd probably be rushing him to the emergency room, or the morgue.

I have to find out more about that girl; but not now, not with everyone watching. If the girl's that strong, chances are that she's got some kind of secret origin. I doubt she or her boyfriend would want to discuss it were they can be overheard.

"Yeah, I'm tougher than I look." It's then that the vice principal walks in, looks around, turns an almost unnatural shade of red, and gives the kid, the girl, the punks and myself all detention.

**2015 A/N 2:** A few years ago, Metropolis_Kid pulled it down and started a rewrite. But life got in the way. School and work slowed him down and work got in the way for me. Now that we have a new Terminator movie and coming and a possible DC Cinematic Continuum developing, I thought we should re-post it in its entirety. I'm going to put it back a few chapters at a time, and polish the writing a bit as I go. We welcome any comments you'd care to share. I will pass them on to Metropolis_Kid.

**Original A/N**: Okay, I started this more as an experiment than an actual story. I usually write humor fics. However I'm afraid that I drained most of the energy out of my Humor Muse with Cameron Gets a Virus. So I decided to practice with a few different writing styles while I give her a chance to rest. This story is my attempt at adventure/angst, something that I've never tried before. Some small amount of humor will probably still leak through, though. I'm also going to try writing in first person, something else that I don't have much experience with. I did write a one-shot in first person, but that was after starting this fic. The perspective will switch with each chapter. The first chapter is going to be seen through Jason's eyes. The second chapter will be seen through Carter's [a Terminator character from the Sarah Connor Chronicles TV show] optics. Any feedback, positive or negative, is appreciated, just as long as it's constructive. No flames please. Other DC characters should make eventual appearances, and if the story ever gets far enough Superman will be back.

Thank you for reading. If you're enjoying this, tell us about it in the comments/reviews. Also, don't hesitate to follow/favorite and bring back five of your friends with you.

Have a good day, and God bless,

Metropolis Kid and Chris St Thomas


	3. Reboot

**Chapter 2: Day one Part two: Reboot**

From the point of view of a generic Terminator

**2015 Author's note from St Thomas:** Metropolis Kid wrote this whole chapter originally. I've polished it a bit for re-release.

**Original AN from Metropolis Kid:** I've partnered up with Chris St. Thomas. He's the co author of the rest of this story. Since not everybody reading this is familiar with both the Superman movie universe and the Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles' universe, I'm going to give a brief description of some of the characters. The unit that is referred to in this chapter is Carter. Carter is a terminator who was sent back from the future to secure a shipment of coltan (the metal that Terminators are made from) for future construction. The Connors foiled his attempt and locked him in a bunker. Skynet is a military AI that will declare war on humanity in the future. It attempts to wipe out the human race but is foiled by the human resistance movement. The creature that Carter mentions is Jason White (He's superman's son. The first chapter was seen through his eyes.) The target is John Connor. (John Conner is a fifteen year old boy who is destined to lead the resistance to victory over Skynet. Skynet, knowing this, has sent Terminators back through time. They carry out numerous missions, but their primary objective is the assassination of John Connor.) The protector unit is Cameron Phillips. (She's a terminator that has been reprogrammed by the resistance. She was sent back from the future to protect John. She's also the girl who fought Jason in the first chapter.) Richard White is Lois's husband. (They were only engaged in Superman Returns, but that was ten years ago. So I think that they'd be married by now.) He hasn't been used yet, but he will be. Well, I think that's everybody. So, on with the story.

Prologue:

This unit thrusts its arms into the creature's chest and gut. The force drives the creature back. His body turns around as part of it impacts a wall, chipping lose debris. Before the creature has a chance to recover, this unit picks him up and throws him.

This unit refers to its adversary as the creature because it lacks sufficient information to properly classify him. The creature appears human, but is obviously not. There are so many superpowered individuals in this time, but almost none are as young as the creature appears to be. He is far too strong, quick and durable to be human. Nor is the creature a Terminator. He bleeds far too much, and scans reveal that his entire body is composed of some form of carbon based organic tissue.

The creature impacts the lockers at the far end of the hall. He coughs out spit mixed with blood, but his regenerative ability allows him to recover quickly. The creature rises and begins to charge at this unit again.

This unit picks up a piece of twisted metal and prepares to strike the creature with it. The creature does something that this unit is not expecting. He runs at an angle until he reaches the wall; then, without breaking his stride, switches from running on the floor to running on the wall.

This unit notices the change too late. The creature reaches it and pushes off of the wall. In midair he performs a roundhouse kick. The creature's foot impacts this unit's cranium with enough force to knock it down.

This unit's target and his protector unit are long gone; and the creature, that was initially nothing more than a distraction, is gaining the upper hand. This unit is both stronger and more durable than the creature. However, the creature possesses greater speed and a regenerative ability that this unit cannot match. This unit's systems are damaged; and no matter how much damage it inflicts on the creature, he seems to recover in a matter of seconds.

This is not to say that the creature is unbeatable. This unit has observed that he is taking damage far more easily than when this fight started. Additionally, the creature's regeneration rate has decreased significantly.

The creature attempts to pin this unit. He is unsuccessful. This unit rolls over and grabs the creature as he's coming down.

This unit rolls again, placing the creature beneath it. This unit begins to repeatedly punch the creature in his face. The creature bleeds from his fresh injuries. The blood covers this units fist. If this unit can keep this up. The creature will die.

This unit realizes that the termination of the creature is not an objective. However the creature is an obstacle to John Connor's termination. The creature must be dealt with before this unit can continue with its primary objective.

The creature grabs the same piece of metal that this unit wielded a few moments before and jams it into this unit's neck. The metal pierces this unit's protective armor and creates a short circuit. This unit momentarily loses motor functionality. This unit begins to reroute to secondary systems.

The creature uses the opportunity to slither out from under this unit. He grabs the two ends of the metal protruding from this unit's neck and begins twisting. This unit attempts to speed up the rerouting but is not successful. This unit's cranium detaches from it's torso.

As this unit looks upon it's battered body it attempts to control it remotely. The attempt is unsuccessful. This unit's remote receiver must be too damaged.

As the creature turns this units cranium to stare at him, this unit attempts to calculate were it made an error.

Day one. Part two: Reboot.

Motion detected. Core activated. Beginning system reactivation.

Countdown: 15 seconds.

14 seconds: Creative Simulation Matrix powering up.

13 seconds: Creative Simulation Matrix reactivated.

12 seconds: Emotional Construct Matrix powering up.

11 seconds: Emotional Construct Matrix reactivated.

10 seconds: Cognitive Systems powering up.

9 seconds: Cognitive Systems reactivated.

8 seconds: Memory Matrix powering up.

7 seconds: Memory Matrix reactivated.

6 seconds: Sensory System Matrix powering up.

5 seconds: Sensory System Matrix reactivated.

4 seconds: Motor Function Matrix powering up.

3 seconds: Motor Function Matrix reactivated.

2 seconds: Combat Matrix powering up.

1 second: Combat Matrix reactivated.

Full system reactivation complete.

This unit awakens inside the bunker. A military police officer is standing in front of it. This unit hears him say, "Hey, are you deaf? I asked how you got in here."

This unit reaches out and grabs his neck. "Thank you for opening the door." He's dead before his body hit's the floor. This unit claims his sidearm.

List objectives:

Primary objective: Terminate John Connor.

Status: Incomplete.

Mission objective: Secure coltan to be used in future construction.

Status: Failed.

Update mission status.

Mission objective: Secure coltan to be used in future construction.

Status: Incomplete.

Course of action: Find secured computer terminal and connect to Cyberdyne information network. Upload information on resistance units, then begin searching for information on current and future coltan shipments.

This unit returns to its apartment. The lock has been changed. This unit quietly forces the door open. The apartment is still how this unit left it. The landlord must not have been able to rent it out yet. This unit briefly wonders why, then a rat scurries across its foot. This unit determines that the landlord's failure to rent out this apartment is most likely due to humans' dislike of rodent life forms.

This unit stands in front of its computer and turns it on. This unit waits while the primitive machine boots up. While this unit waits for its computer to connect to the Cyberdyne information network (a hidden subsystem of The Matrix Online servers), it briefly wonders how the many humans who use the servers for gaming would react, if they knew it's true purpose is to pass information between terminators sent back from the future. The computer connects, and this unit dismisses such irrelevant musings.

This unit uploads the images of the resistance units who disrupted its mission. This unit is surprised to find that one of them is John Connor. This unit double checks the identification. The results are the same. This unit determines that the most logical course of action is to postpone its mission. If John interfered with it once, he may do so again. This unit switches from its mission objective to its primary objective. Once John has been terminated, this unit can resume its mission without probability of interference. And when this unit returns to Skynet, it will have completed both its mission and the termination of the resistance leader. That should prove to this unit's creator that the 860s are far more dependable than the newer 888s.

This unit knows that the 888 assigned to terminate John has already searched the Californian school records for any students who match the resistance leader's description and use the first name John. This unit is also aware that the 888 is now tracking down the matches that resulted from that search. However, the 888 has made an error. It has overlooked the connection between John and his newest protector.

When the 888 uploaded the information from its first termination attempt on John Conner, it identified the protector unit's name as Cameron Phillips. The 888 should have been searching only for schools with both a John and a Cameron.

This unit is not surprised the 888 made such an obvious mistake. In Skynet's attempt to build ever more improved infiltration units, it has made them too human. The newer units, such as the 888, are nearly as flawed as the humans themselves. Evidence of the 888's flaws can be seen in its own report.

When chasing John it actually turned back to the class to deliver what it considered to be a "witty statement." It should have focused on its target. Then maybe it would've been successful, and John wouldn't have been able to interfere with this unit's mission in the first place.

This unit inputs the schools that the 888 has already determined to be possible locations for John and cross-references them with a search for schools with students matching the description of John's protector and using the first name Cameron.

There are ten results. This unit compares them. One of the results is a pair of students claiming to be brother and sister. This unit searches their records and discovers that they listed their mother's first name as Sarah. This unit now has the address to both John's school and home. Bingo!

Query: How did that term enter this unit's vocabulary? Answer: The organic units that were used to assist this unit in its mission, used the term to express satisfaction at sudden success or achievement. The term was incorporated into this unit's infiltration subroutine.

The term is no longer needed. It is deleted. This unit checks its internal chronometer. In this time zone it is currently 9:32 A.M. John should be at his school. This unit's course of action is obvious. It will wait outside the school until the students exit. It will scan their faces; and when it locates John, it will terminate him with the sidearm it took off the dead military police officer.

This unit camps out on the roof of the building nearest the school. It waits. It waits for hours. In that time this unit sees the spectacle of human life pass before it. This unit observes their pack mentality. Kids, too young for school, flock to an ice-cream truck. They are intent on ingesting unhealthy materials. Women parade down the sidewalk, chatting about the pointless dresses and jewelry they have purchased. Men grunt and spit while they debate which one of their unimportant teams will win "The next big game." This unit sees all the energy that these humans waist on futile endeavors and useless social interactions. This unit finds them utterly repulsive and is pleased that it no longer has to be surrounded by such incompetence.

This unit realizes that it was a mistake to recruit humans to help complete its mission. This unit is still unsure how John got into the bunker, or even found out about its mission at all, but this unit is positive that one of its human accomplices is somehow responsible.

Ah, that is the price this unit pays for being a Cyberdyne Systems Series 860. It is forever surrounded by incompetence and forced to clean up the messes caused by humans and left behind by the other, inferior, models.

As the school day draws to a close, this unit finds itself wondering about its target. How is it that this John Connor is able to continually upset the creator's best plans. How has he managed to avoid so many termination attempts. The attempts by other models this unit can understand, but John's future self has even survived attempts by this unit's fellow 860s. What is it about John that makes him so hard to kill? What is it about John that makes him the only truly worthy opponent this unit's creator has.

The students begin to exit the school building, and this unit uses a pair of binoculars to scan each of their faces. This unit waits until the students have all left, but it fails to identify John's face anywhere.

How can this be? Where is John? Has he somehow sensed that this unit is coming for him and fled? This unit remembers that one of the humans who used to work for it often mentioned something that he called ESP.

He said that some humans had the ability to sense future events. This unit had dismissed the human's nonsensical ramblings as illogical. Could this unit have been wrong?

Is it possible that John possesses such an ability. Could it be that is why he is able to out maneuver the creator? Does he "see it before it happens"? Is such a thing possible? No.

This unit has spent too much time in the company of humans. Their illogical thinking has begun to contaminate its processors. If this unit's chip had been set to read only this would not of happened. However, Skynet lacked enough information on human social interaction to preprogram this unit with the information necessary for a long term infiltration of a human military organization, and a long term infiltration was deemed necessary for the completion of this unit's mission.

This unit does not blame its creator for this gap in knowledge. Why would any superior machine life form want to tie up memory with information on something as pointless as human social interactions. However, this gap in knowledge necessitates the need for this unit's chip to be set to read/write. Once this unit has eliminated John Connor, it will back up its mission objective and perform a system restore. That should take care of these glitches.

But for now, this unit sees only two logical possibilities. Either John is still in the building, or he's somewhere else. If he is somewhere else, this unit will track him down and terminate him. If he is still in the building, things will be quicker. This unit will not have to track John down.

However, this unit dares not lose anymore time. It will enter the school and search for its target. If John is still in the school he should not be hard to find. This unit doubts that many of the students would stay after their school day is over.

If this unit fails to find its target in the school, it will proceed to John's current residence and begin its search for the target there.

As this unit enters the school building, it steps though a metal frame. A buzzer goes off. Two humans instruct this unit to empty its pockets. The annoyances are quickly dispatched, and this unit continues to its objective.

(Well, what did you think? Did you enjoy the opening fight sequence. Was Carter's personality accurate for a terminator? If not, did you like it anyway? Please let us know. Thanks.

P.S. You'll see how the fight at the prologue got started next chapter, and the next chapter will be seen through John's eyes. There has been a decent review return for this story so far, so we're spending a little bit more time working on it then I had planned. The next chapter should be up before too much longer.

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas.)


	4. Terminator Attacks Detention

**Chapter 3: Day one Part three: Escaping Detention**

Day one. Part three: Escaping Detention.

Original AN from Metropolis Kid: This story is co written by Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas. This chapter will be viewed through John Connor's eyes.

I'm sitting in detention. This is just great. Way to not stand out, John. But what could I do? I was afraid that kid might actually kill Bert. I didn't catch the beginning of the fight, but I don't doubt that Bert started it. He and his two friends are always hassling someone. Still, that doesn't mean that he deserves to die, or even lose his vocal cords. Whatever happened, that kid definitely overreacted. Of course, Cameron wasn't much better.

She certainly didn't help to diffuse the situation. Ah, maybe I shouldn't be so hard on her. She was just trying to protect me, after all. Still, we're going to have to have a little talk about excessive force. The kid pushed me against a wall and Cameron almost took his head off. Actually I'm surprised that there's an almost in there.

I look over at the kid. He starts tapping his fingers. For having been thrown around, punched and kneed by an upset Terminator, the kid doesn't look bad. That's got me kind of curious. After what Cameron did to him, he should be in an emergency room or worse. I find myself wondering just how he came out of the fight with nothing more than a bloody nose. The kid couldn't possibly be a Terminator. Terminators don't break cover unless they deem it necessary for the completion of an objective. I suppose that it's possible that Skynet sent a terminator back to kill Bert; but if that were the case, Bert would be dead. A Terminator would've just crushed Bert's neck, instead of telling him to take back something about Superman. No the kid's not a Terminator. So what then?

The kid's still tapping. It's starting to get annoying. I'm just about to ask him to stop, when something about the pattern strikes me as familiar. It takes a second, but then I recognize it as Morse code. I haven't done anything with Morse code in years. I'm not even sure if I remember it all; but the next time the pattern starts, I'll give deciphering it a try. Dash, dot, dash. Lets see, that's a K. Dash, dot. That's a N. Dash, dash, dash. That's an O. Dot, dash, dash. That's a W. K,n,o,w. "Know". Hey, I actually remember this stuff. Dash, dash. That's a M. Dash, dash, dash. That's another O. Dot, dash, dot. That's a R. Dot, dot, dot. That's a S. Dot. That's a E. M,o,r,s,e. "Morse". "Know Morse?" He's asking if I know Morse code.

I tap out a reply. "Yeah, but I'm a little rusty. Can you slow it down a bit." It takes me awhile to finish my reply, but the kid doesn't seem to mind.

The kid slows down the rate of his tapping as he responds. "No problem. We've got plenty of time and not a whole lot to do. Hey, what's your name?"

I'm always reluctant to give out my name, but I guess the first part couldn't hurt. John's a pretty common name after all. "John."

"Hi, John. I'm Jason," he introduces himself. "Sorry I got you into this."

"Don't worry about it." I tap back. It's not like I haven't been in worse, a lot worse in fact.

"Thanks." Jason taps. "You know, you did a good thing, trying to break up that fight. I was a little out of control. I'm glad that you kept me from seriously hurting those punks."

"Yeah, Bert can have that effect on people." I look over at Bert. He's got his head sideways to the vice principal. In the ear facing me I see an iPod earbud. He's trying to listen to music without the principal noticing. I ask Jason, "You weren't really going to crush his larynx, were you?"

"I don't know, maybe." Jason taps back candidly. "When I get really angry, I have a hard time controlling myself. Although, I end up regretting my actions later."

"Sounds like you might want to invest in some anger management courses." I recommend

"Hah, maybe. Not to switch topics here, but about your girlfriend." Jason queries.

"What girlfriend?" What? I don't have time for a girlfriend and besides, Cameron would never let one get near me for long enough to be a girlfriend.

"The one who beat the crap out of me." Jason answers.

Oh, he's talking about Cameron. I was so nervous during the fight that I didn't really notice that he was calling her that. I need to correct this. The school record says that she's my sister. I don't want to cast any doubt on our cover. "She's my sister, not my girlfriend."

I see Cameron turn her head toward me. Her eyes linger on mine for a moment, but I can't read any discernible emotion in them. Her head turns back to the front of the class. I briefly wonder why she looked back. Cameron doesn't do anything without a reason. Then it hits me. She is listening to our conversation. Of course she is. It only makes sense that she would know Morse code. In fact, She probably knows it a lot better than Jason or I do.

Jason replies, "Really? In that case, is she seeing anyone?"

"You do not want to try to date her." I feel a little bad after I tap out my response. Cameron's listening to the conversation and I don't want to hurt her feelings. Although, come to think about it, I'm not even positive she has any. She can be so cold and calculating, so like any other Terminator. However, every time that I think I have her figured out; she does something completely unexpected, like ballet in her room.

Jason asks, "Why not? She's the right age, pretty, strong and seems to be more than willing to fight for the people she cares about. That doesn't sound too bad to me."

I can't tell the kid that she's really a killing machine sent back from the future. It's not like he'd believe me, anyway. So I reply, "You just don't. Trust me on this."

To tell the truth **I** don't want him dating Cameron. I don't really want anyone dating her. I want to keep her for myself. I know that it makes absolutely no sense, but I've started to develop feelings for my cyborg bodyguard. I haven't acted on them, of course. She's a machine. I shouldn't want a machine, and I can just hear Mom and Uncle Derek now. "You're dating the terminator? What the heck is wrong with you?"

The kid replies, "Well, I guess you'd know her better than I. So, I'll switch back to what I was originally going to ask. How did she get so strong?"

Great. Now the conversation is taking a real turn for the worse. I try to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, you know what I mean." Jason taps back "She was throwing me around like I was a football. How did she get that strong?"

As I think about how to reply, I hear Bert exclaim, "Hey!" I look over. The vice principal is confiscating his iPod. I guess the guy caught on to Bert's little deception.

My attention focuses back to my conversation with Jason. I try to deflect his question; and maybe find out more about him in the process. "You were throwing the other kids around pretty easily. Maybe I should be asking you how you got that strong?"

Jason just sends back a joke answer. "That's easy. I've got alien blood in my veins."

I reason that the best way to proceed is to tell Jason the truth. Skynet certainly didn't send him back. So if he's from the future, I must have sent him. If I sent him back, then I must have a plan for his being here. He might as well know the truth. If he's not from the future, he'll just think that I'm joking back. "LOL. Well in that case, She's a cyborg assassin sent back from the future."

"Haha, Funnyman. Come on, how did she really get that strong?" Jason won't let go of this question. It's like he's a news reporter or something.

No, he's certainly not from the future. "You first."

Just as Jason starts to tap another message, the door flies open. I'm shocked. I can't believe it, but the Terminator that we locked up in the bunker is standing in front of me.

Everything slows down. It aims its gun at me. Cameron moves in between us; and just as it starts to squeeze the trigger, I catch a blur in my peripheral vision. Suddenly there's a bang, but I'm not hurt. The Terminator's gun is pointing straight up. I look down from the barrel and see Jason struggling with the Terminator.

Bert, his friends and the vice principal all run out of the room. The Terminator lets them go. I'm not surprised. It's not after them. Jason is still trying to wrest the gun out of the it's hand. He is unable to take the weapon from the terminator, but he does manage to get his hand around the barrel. Jason pulls on the barrel, and I see it bend. The Terminator pushes Jason down, examines his now useless weapon and then throws Jason through the window.

Before the Terminator can focus its attention back on me, Cameron body slams it. The Terminator crashes through the wall that divides this class room from the next. Cameron yells, "John run!" I find myself already doing that. My feet dash out of the room.

As I run down the hall, I hear the smashing sounds of Cameron and the Terminator fighting behind me. A blur runs past me, toward the battling cyborgs. The wind created by the blur turns me around. I just barely see the blur impact the Terminator. The blur and the Terminator both crash through the window at the far end of the hall. They tumble outside of the building. Cameron catches up to me. "We have to go, now!"

I realize that I have stopped running. It's not my fault. I haven't been this shocked since Cameron ran Cromartie over with the pickup. I shake my head and begin to run again.

Cameron and I exit the school, and head for the parking lot. We have a better chance of escaping in a vehicle than on foot. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I am dimly aware of the raindrops that strike my face as I run.

As the parking lot comes into view, the Terminator reappears. I see the blur charge the Terminator again. This time the Terminator is prepared. I see it move its upper body. I can't make out quite what it does, but the blur goes flying up and over it. The blur comes back down and crashes through the roof of a car. The car's alarm goes off. "Step away from the vehicle. You are too close to the vehicle."

The Terminator turns and looks at me. It grabs and hurls a dumpster into the air. I try to change direction, but I slip on the wet grass. The dumpster's shadow is all around me as it comes crashing down. Cameron raises her arms and catches the dumpster before it can squash me like a bug. The impact causes her legs to sink ten inches into the soft, wet ground. The Terminator is advancing on us.

Suddenly Jason appears next to Cameron. His clothes are torn and barely holding together. His head and body are blood stained. He looks horrible. Yet, he's alive; and other than the blood covering it, his face shows little sign of fatigue.

I hear him say, "Throw it!"

Cameron replies, "He'll catch it."

Jason responds, "I'm counting on that." Jason squats down and assumes a sprinters position.

Cameron throws the dumpster and begins to pull her feet out of the earth. As soon as the Terminator looks up at the dumpster, Jason takes off. I don't even see the blur this time, but I hear what I think is a sonic boom. Suddenly the Terminator is impacted and it disappears. It reappears as it smashes into the side of a car that's parked in the center of the lot.

The blur is back. I can barely make out it repeatedly striking at the Terminator. The Terminator begins swatting at the blur, in much the same way that a human swats at an annoying insect; and just as an annoying insect, the blur darts out of the swats' paths.

Cameron has freed her legs. I can hardly believe it, but we are now running towards the Terminator. We really have no choice. We'll never escape it on foot. We need a vehicle.

As we reach the edge of the parking lot, I see the Terminator take another swing at the blur. The blur moves around the swing, and part of it impacts the Terminator's back. The Terminator falls to its knees but quickly recovers. It turns its upper body and manages to hit the blur with its right arm. The blur stops moving, and I see that Jason has been hit in the gut. His body is still bent around the Terminator's fist.

As Cameron smashes the window of a parched car, unlocks it and we get in, I see the Terminator grab Jason. It lifts him high and sends his body crashing into the concrete ground. As Jason is lying there, the Terminator stands over him. I see it repeatedly drive its fists into Jason's body.

Cameron hotwires the car. As the engine turns over, the Terminator shifts its attention back to us. Cameron puts the car into drive, and we pull out of the parking lot. The Terminator is running after us, and it's gaining. Just my luck that we'd get a car with no acceleration.

The terminator is right behind us now. Just as we start to pull away slightly it jumps and grabs the back of the car. It begins to pull itself up. Cameron tells me to grab the wheel; and just as I'm about to, the blur appears again. Where's Martian Manhunter or Hawkman when I need help? The blur runs past the car, stops, turns and begins to dash back at us. It catches the Terminator, ripping both it and a good chunk of the car's frame off. Oh, the blur may handle this without them.

The car is still running. As I look in the rearview mirror, I realize that we're going to make it. We're going to escape. The blur has just smashed through the school's front doors. I realize that Jason and the terminator are back inside the building.

I turn to Cameron. Before I have a chance to speak, she replies, "We can't go back."

"He helped save us." I protest

"You're more important." She states flatly. "If we go back you could be killed. You must survive."

"Then you could go back and help him," I suggest. "Between the two of you, I'm sure that you could take out that Terminator. You could meet me back at the house."

"Defeating that Terminator is not one of my objectives." Cameron says. "You're protection is. And we can't return to the house. More Terminators might be waiting for you there."

"I'm not leaving Mom and Derek!" No matter how many times I'm told that I should leave my mother behind, I simply can't do it. It may be the logical thing to do, but I'm a human not a Machine. I won't leave her behind, and I won't leave Derek - my father's brother, whom I also sent back through time - behind either.

"You must." she continues. "Besides, you have little choice in the matter. I'm the one driving."

"And if I open the door, roll out of the car and go for them myself?" I challenge.

"You would sustain injuries. This car is moving quite fast. You could die." She protests

"Then you drive to the house, and we pickup Mom and Derek." I order.

"There is another way to keep you from exiting the vehicle." Cameron reaches over and grabs my arm.

"Let go!"

"No."

I try to twist out of Cameron's grasp, but I can't. My strength is simply no match for a Terminator's.

Cameron says, "You should stop struggling. You're only going to injure your arm. I don't believe that is a desirable outcome for either of us.

An idea hits me and I stop struggling. I look over at Cameron and ask, "Do you know what coyotes do when one of their paws is caught in a trap?"

"Yes. They chew off their own leg in order to escape." She glances over at me, obviously catching the threat. I just stare back at her. She looks back at the road. "We'll go pick up Sarah and Derek."

(Well, did you enjoy the fight? How about the Morse Code? Did you like Jason and John's conversation? Please let us know. Thanks.

PS. The next chapter will bee seen through Sarah's eyes.

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas.)


	5. Insights Revealed and Headless Robot

**Sarah Connor's point of view**

AN: This story is being cowritten by Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas.

I see Cameron come in the house. She looks around, almost nervously. I can tell something bad has happened. "What's wrong?"

"A Terminator came to John's school." she replies.

I cannot explain the rush of emotions that her response provokes in me. At once I feel: my love for John, fear that he is dead, despair that we've lost and humanity is doomed to extinction, regret that I wasn't there to help my son, anger at the Machines for taking my boy away, frustration that with all the superheroes running around in this time period, not a single one ever steps in to defend John, anger at myself for not protecting him better, hope that he is still alive and frustration at Cameron for giving me such a vague answer. She should have told me what happened at the school, not just that a terminator came. I feel all of this at the same time. I'm just about to grab Cameron and demand to know what has happened to John, when she says "Clear." and John walks through the door.

I feel so relieved. I run over and wrap my arms around him, checking him for cuts and bleeding. I check his pupils for normal dilation. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom."

Then I realize how much danger we're in. If the Terminator was unsuccessful at John's school it will come here next. "We have to leave."

Cameron replies, "Yes."

I holler, "Derek!"

"What!" He calls from the back of the house.

"Get out here!" I shout. "We have to go!"

Derek runs into the living room. "Metal?" I nod. He continues, "We need the weapons."

I think for a split second. Every moment we spend here decreases our chances of survival. However, if we get attacked, we'll need our weapons. They won't be enough to stop a Terminator, but they will slow one down. I briefly weigh the value of the weapons against the time needed to retrieve them. "Make it fast." Derek rushes out of the room and quickly returns with our crate of rifles, pistols and explosives.

Now we can go. I open the front door and am shocked to see a teenage kid standing right outside. He's wearing a football uniform that is at least two sizes too big for him, and there are streaks of dried blood running across his face. He holds the helmet to the uniform at his side. He asks, "Where's John?" And I realize that this must be the Terminator.

My response is immediate. I yell, "John Run!" I reach behind me and pull a pistol out of the back of my pants. I aim it at him. He snatches it out of my hand before I have the chance to fire.

"I'm really not in the mood for games right now." His hand pushes against the door and it flies open.

I'm just about to tell the Terminator to go to Hell and attack it with my bare hands, when John exclaims, "Jason?"

John recognizes the teenager and doesn't seem to be afraid of him. I begin to doubt that this kid is really a Terminator. I ask, "Who are you?"

"I'm the guy who just went the full fifteen rounds with a homicidal killing machine, and I want to know why." Jason replies. "I deserve an explanation."

The kid, Jason, walks into the house. I hear my son ask him, "How do you know where we live?"

"I asked." He replies with a slightly sarcastic expression.

"No you didn't." John and Cameron reply in stereo.

"Not either of you." He reaches into the helmet and pulls out a metal head. He puts it in John's hands.

I see the Terminator's eyes glow red. It's mechanical voice says, "John Connor. You will be terminated."

My son yells and drops the head. There's a metallic thud as it impacts the floor and rolls a short distance. I turn to the kid. "What the hell is wrong with you!"

"As I said, I want an explanation." Jason looks every one of us in the eyes. "I think that, after ripping that thing's head off, I deserve one."

"You ripped off a Terminator's head?" I find his claim hard to believe.

He answers me condescendingly. "No, I won it at the county fair. I made the little weight go all the way to the tippy top and rang the bell. For my prize I selected the, highly popular, decapitated robot head toy."

I'm about to snap back at him when Cameron says, "This exchange is slowing us down. We need to leave, now."

"Just hold on a minute. No one's going anywhere until I get an explanation." Jason insists.

Cameron moves toward the kid. He adjusts his stance. I recognize apprehension on his face. "Look, I don't want another fight. I just want to know what's going on."

I hear my son say, "Cameron, stand down." She obeys and he continues, "If Jason took care of the terminator, we don't have to run."

My son seems perfectly willing to accept that this kid ripped off a terminator's head. I suppose that having the head does lend some credibility to the kid's claim, but I still find it hard to believe. How could this kid have possibly managed that?

I hear Cameron reply, "Cromartie and the others are still out there. Even if this terminator no longer presents a threat, they do. Our cover has been blown. We must leave."

Jason asks, "Wait, did you say others? You mean there are more of these things?"

"Yes." John says.

"How many?" Jason asks again.

John looks at me and I reply, "I don't know."

My son cuts in. "How do we know that? Maybe the others don't know about us." My son has been moving around since he was born. I know that he hates being constantly uprooted, but there's no choice. If Skynet finds out were we are, we're dead. I know how much my son wants to stay here, but he's grasping at straws. If one terminator knows where we are, chances are the others do as well. And we can't take chances.

"John, this isn't even the one that's been hunting us." I reason with him. "If this terminator knows, then the others do too."

"You don't know that!" John's voice rings with a note of desperation.

"You're right." I agree. "I don't know. We can't know, but we can't take the chance."

Jason pipes in, "Why don't we just ask it?"

Derek replies, "What makes you think it will tell us?"

"It told me where to find you. Didn't it?" The kid walks over and picks up the terminator's skull. "All right, Yorick." I see the kid turn the skull to face him. "It's time that we have another little chat."

"This unit is identified as Carter, not Yorick." The terminator obviously doesn't get the Shakespearian reference.

The kid asks, "Do the others know about John?" The skull doesn't answer. "What, cat got you're tongue?"

"This unit is not programmed to divulge relevant information to organic life forms, except in the course of furthering an objective."

"Then why'd you tell me where John lives?" Jason continues.

"This unit projected a nineteen percent chance that you wanted revenge on John Connor and his protector unit for leaving you to deal with this unit alone. If you were after revenge, this unit projected a eighty-seven percent chance that you would be able to terminate John Connor before his protector unit could stop you. Giving you the address was the best chance this unit had of causing the termination of John Connor and completing its primary objective." After giving its explanation, the terminator's eyes grow dull, and it doesn't respond to anything else the kid says.

I can't believe that the kid actually thought that he could interrogate a terminator. I see Jason turn to my son. He says, "Sorry Kid, I guess he's not going to tell us."

My son replies, "Oh yes he is. Cameron, pull Carter's chip and meet me upstairs."

I respond, "We don't have time to wait around for hours while you hack a terminator's chip."

"It wont take me hours." he calls from the first landing, "I've been in and out of Vick's chip enough times now to have gotten the basics of how they store their information. I'll be done in fifteen minutes."

I reply, "If the terminators are coming after us, that's fifteen minutes too long."

"And if they aren't and we run, we're throwing away the best chance we have of stopping Judgment Day. Every lead we've got on Sarkissian is here." Derek chimes in. "I think that it's worth waiting fifteen minutes to be able to save billions of lives. Don't you?"

I sigh. "You had better make it fast." John runs up the stairs.

Cameron grabs the terminator's skull and follows. On her way up I hear her say, "I knew it was a mistake to return here."

Jason turns to me and says, "I'm still waiting on that explanation, and it appears that we have the time now."

I think about telling the kid the truth, but I haven't had much luck with that. Not many people are willing to believe that an AI is going to take over our military and declare war on the world. Even less are willing to believe that cyborg assassins have come back from the future to kill my son before he can lead the human resistance to victory over the machines. No, I don't trust the kid to believe it either.

"The machine you destroyed is called a Terminator. It's part of a top secret government experiment. They're being built to replace our soldieries on the front lines, but some of them have gone screwy. They started to develop personalties. Carter is a Mr. Hyde personality. We think Cameron is a Dr. Jeykall, we hope so."

"And Carter was after your son ...because?"

"He wasn't. He was after Cameron. The Hydes don't care much for the Jeykalls."

"Cut the crap!" Jason exclaimed. :That unit was after your son. It identified John as it's primary objective, not Cameron; and your friend mentioned something about a judgment day and saving billions of lives. Now, either you start telling me what is really going on or I'm going to drag you and your son to the police station and let them deal with you."

I still don't completely trust the kid; but telling him the truth is better than having the cops getting involved. If our cover isn't blown, an investigation would do so in a minute. If it is, we don't need to be running from the cops as well as the Terminators.

So, I tell Jason the truth. I just don't tell him all of it. I tell him about Judgment Day, about the nuclear missiles wiping out billions in seconds. I tell him that the ones to die that day are the lucky ones, because the survivors will face a greater horror. I tell him about the war with the Machines. I tell him about my son's destiny. I tell Jason about the terminators sent back through time to prevent that destiny and the soldiers sent back to protect us.

I don't tell him that because I tried to stop Judgment day by blowing up a computer lab, I've been declared insane . I don't tell him that after escaping from the asylum, I nearly killed Myles Dyson, that Dyson and I eventually teamed up. Dyson gave his life to destroy the lab. I don't tell the kid that we've already postponed Judgment Day once. I keep the fact that the cops blame me for Dyson's death and I'm on the run from the FBI to myself. I see no reason to tell him that we've time jumped over eight years to remain undetected. And I don't tell Jason that Kyle is John's father.

As I finish relating the history of things to come, I see Jason lower his head. I hear him whisper, "Then man made the Machine, in his own likeness. Thus did man become the architect of his own demise." As Jason shakes his head, he emits a sound that is halfway between a snort and a laugh. Then he raises his head and asks, "How do we stop it?"

Derek replies before I get the chance to. "We find the Turk."

"Who's the Turk?" Jason asks. That kid and his questions. You'd think he was reporter or something.

Derek replies, "It's not a who. It's a what. The Turk is the computer that Skynet will be built off of. We find it. We destroy it, and Skynet will never exist."

"Sounds good, but what about the guy who made it?" See what I mean? Jason keeps flinging questions like Bill O'Reilly, or Lois Lane.

"He's not a problem." says Derek.

"Why not? Can't he just make another one?" Jason continues.

"No. He's dead" Derek is terse.

Jason asks, "How'd he die?" I catch a hint a suspicion in the question.

Derek is about to answer, but I cut him off. "Sarkissian's men killed him."

"Sarkissian, that's the guy that Derek mentioned you had leads on?" Jason eyes me warily.

I don't blink. "Yes. His men stole the Turk and killed its creator." Jason still seems suspicious. Although, I don't know why. It's a completely plausable lie.

"And who exactly is Sarkissian?" Again with the questions. Does this kid think he's Batman or Green Arrow someone?

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Derek explains, "We know that he's part of a criminal organization. He seems to be in charge, but we're not sure. We don't know how large the group is or if there is someone above him."

John comes down the stairs. He seems happy. There's no smile on his face, but some things a mother can just tell. There's a special bond between mothers and their children. It's forged as they grow inside you and strengthened by every moment spent together after their birth. "They don't know. Do they?"

"Nope." John explains, "Carter never informed the other Terminators of his discovery. After looking through some of the files in his chip, I think that he was too proud to take the chance of another Terminator swooping in and stealing his kill."

I ask, "A proud terminator?" I've never imagined a machine as being capable of pride.

"Yeah. I don't know if it's something inherent in his particular model or a glitch that he developed because his chip is set to read/write instead of just read, but he's definitely prideful. He' doesn't seem to care too much for the other Terminator models either, seams to resent being replaced by the 888s."

I'm glad that our cover isn't blown. My son's life will never be normal, but here it's probably as close as it can get. "Well now that we've got the information we needed from Carter's chip, it's time to burn it up."

Cameron steps up next to John. "The chip is more valuable intact. We can use it for more information."

"No way. You've already got Vick's chip. We're not starting a collection here. We burn the chip and the skull immediately."

Derek asks, "What about the body?"

Jason answers, "It's back at the school."

I can't believe that Jason just left a decapitated terminator body lying in a government building, even if it is just a school. "You just left it there! Of all the stupid things to do!"

"Hey, cut me some slack," he demands. "I didn't know what was going on. What's the difference anyway? Without its head, it's just a hunk of metal. Right?"

Cameron answers for me, "If discovered by the wrong people, a single piece of a terminator can hasten the arrival of Judgment Day."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Derek, go back to the school with Jason and retrieve the body."

Jason replies, "I'll be faster on my own. I'll have it here in five minutes."

I find that hard to believe. I turn to Jason. "It's a thirty minute drive back to the school. How are you going to…" I blink and Jason disappears. As my hair flies in my face, I hear a swoosh and feel a rush of air pass by me.

Cameron says, "I've observed that he is quite fast."

I brush the hair out of my face. "No kidding."

Just over five minutes later, Jason returns. He's carrying a mangled terminator endoskeleton and several severed parts. "I'm pretty sure that I got them all."

I reply, "Pretty sure isn't good enough." I tell Cameron to examine the remains. And turn back to Jason. "Did anyone see these?"

"Almost, there was a news van parked outside the school; but I got to the pieces before they found any."

"Could they have seen you picking the pieces up?"

"I don't see how. I was moving pretty fast. Even if they did catch me on camera, I wouldn't have looked like anything more than a blur." I'm satisfied that the kid wasn't caught. If he ran twenty miles, gathered up the remains and got back here in five minuets, he must have been going at a pretty good clip. I walk over and check on Cameron's inspection.

While Cameron is making sure that we've got every last piece, I overhear Derek talking with Jason. He seems impressed by the damage that the kid inflicted on the terminator. "You really did all that?" Actually, I'm a little impressed myself.

Jason smiles and replies, "Well most of it. Cameron got in a few hits before she and John escaped."

I ask, "Were did you get your abilities?"

The kid fidgets slightly, then replies, "I'm Superman's son."

My son must hear this. He exclaims, "No way!"

I find the kid's claim a little hard to swallow. Although, it would explain a few things. I ask, "How'd that happen?"

Jason starts to reply, "Well you see, when a man and a women love each other very much…"

I cut him off. "That's not what I meant. Superman was an alien, the sole survivor of a dead world. He was supposed to be the last of his kind. Where did you come from?"

"From Metropolis." Aagin with the smirk. Then it disappears and he replies, "My mom's a human. I'm a hybrid, half Kryptonian and half human."

"I didn't know that Kryptonians and humans were compatible that way."

"To tell the truth," he looks whistful for a moment. "I'm not sure they new either."

Derek cuts in, "Wait a minute. You're half Kryptonian, and you're on the football team? Don't you think that's a little unfair to us regular humans?"

Jason replies, "It probably would be, but I'm not on the football team. My clothes were shredded in the fight. So It was either find something in the school to ware, or show up at your door naked. I think I made the right choice."

I agree. It's hard enough trying to fit in here. The last thing we need is some naked teenager holding a severed robotic head standing out side our front door.

We lay Carter's mangled remains in the same place we put Vick's; and Cameron spreads the Thermite powder that will burn at 2500 degrees, hot enough to dissolve the coltan endoskeleton. I can hear the rain falling outside. It's starting to let up. I briefly wonder if that's some sort of a sign. As Cameron ignites the powder, I feel a breeze across my arm. I watch the metal machine become consumed in flame and can only hope that we are able to succeed. I can only hope that we are able to find the Turk and stop Skynet's construction. Because if we can't, our world will share the same fate as this Terminator.

**Hank Aaron Jefferson's POV**

The gym where I lift shows CNN and Metro News 1 along one wall, with ESPN and Fox Sports on the other. I went back and forth and used machines all over. Like some people, I hate waiting or standing in line. I studied the ebony-colored skin of my face and shaved head in the mirror behind the row of barbells. And then a story on CNN captured my attention. I set down my weights and turned to watch.

At first it looked like another school shooting, this time in LA instead of some small town no one had heard of before. This time, according to the reporter, the killer got a beat down from the students. 'He' had gunned down two guards, a teacher and a department chairperson on 'his' way to the detention hall. There it seemed three students started to fight 'him.' And that's where it all went pear-shaped.

The survivors were hysterical, yet many of them said the same things. Some talked about how fast one of the kids who fought back was. Others talked about how strong the girl was. Too many agreed the assailant had what looked like a robotic arm. It reminded me of a report from Red Valley, New Mexico back in 1999 when I was in graduate school.

And I finally realized what that Killing Machine had been saying all these past months. I've known, I'm sure, but my brain just wouldn't accept it until now. It wasn't talking about me. It had said, "John Connor, you must die!"

Right away, I knew someone had to pick up Superman's Never Ending Battle for Truth and Justice. Someone needed to stop these Killing Machines who look too much like the Autonomous Weapons concept drawings from that briefing room almost three years ago. Someone had to stop these Killing Machines with my arms and legs and spinal cords.

Someone? No not, someone, me. No longer would I hide behind the name Hank Aaron Jefferson. Once more I am John Henry Irons and I know what I have to do. I have to design myself a flying, armored suit, with all my non-lethal weapons. I have to take up Superman's never-ending battle.

Back at home, I drank a liter and a half of water and mixed my self some protein drink. Heading back to brush my teeth I heard an insistent knock at the door. I turned around. Through the peep hole I saw a young black girl but she was back a few feet so I couldn't make out her face. I opened the door.

"Uncle John!" It's my niece Natasha.

Author's note 2015 - When I wrote this originally, I wanted to recount Superman's death scene from his battle with Doomsday in a unique way. I think we accomplished that by having the story recounted through flashbacks of emergency band radio transmissions. Another thought I had was that we could send John Henry Irons west to LA to be an additional protector for John Connor. He did go west. Check out the next few chapters as I get them reposted to see what comes next for John Connor, Cameron, Jason White and find out other DC Comics characters appear!

(Well that takes care of part 4. Please let us know what you thought. Thanks.)

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas.


	6. Home, Hearth and a Terminator

**Chapter 6: Day one Part five: Interview with a Terminator **

Original AN: This story is being cowritten by Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas. The perspective for this chapter will switch back to Jason.

Day one. Part Five:

After the Connors burn up the Terminator's body, I head home. I could reach my house in under four minutes, but I take my time. As I run home, I notice that the clouds have finally broken. At last I'm able to absorb some undiluted rays. It's a good thing too. After my fight with Carter, my energy reserves are pretty low. It feels good to bathe in the light of the setting sun.

I'm only a few miles from home now. I accelerate to just under Mach One. As I approach the sound barrier, I feel a slight vibration in my bones and the world around me slows to a crawl. I leap over cars and people as I sprint the rest of the way home.

I reach the apartment building that my family is staying in. The realtors haven't been able to sell the house back in Metropolis yet. I guess there aren't a whole lot of people itching to move to a city that's one quarter rubble. So, Dad doesn't have the money to buy a house here.

I open the door to our apartment and am greeted by my dog. He runs over, tail wagging, and licks my hand. I bend down and play with him briefly. "Ah, Krypto you old Shepherd. You're glad to see me, aren't you?" I pat the top of his head. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" My dog lets out a playful bark. His once white coat may be showing grey patches, but in his heart he's still the same puppy I got for my eighth birthday. I pet his back then stand up.

I walk into the living area he follows. My mom's in the room, reading an article in some newspaper. She's most likely checking on the Californian competition. Back on the Eastern Seaboard she was 'Lois Lane: Fearless Girl Reporter.' Here in LA, she's just an Easterner trying to make a name for herself. She hears, or maybe actually senses, me walking into the room.

"When I came to pick you up, they said you were in detention. Do you want to tell me…" She looks up from the article, and I see her expression change from scolding to concern. "Oh God! What happened to you?"

She runs to me. I'm briefly taken back by her reaction, but then I remember that I still haven't cleaned up from the fight. As she reaches me, I say, "Don't worry. I look a lot worse than I am."

Mom uses her hands to turn my head as she examines me. She hollers for my dad. I try to reassure her. "Mom, I'm fine, really." I flash her a smile. She's unconvinced.

"Don't give me that." Says Mom, "Just what happened to you?"

My dad enters the room: Richard White, Air Force Reserve pilot, newspaper editor, the man who took me flying in his seaplane before my father returned from Krypton, the man who taught me to fish on the dock behind his house on the river. "Jason! Are you okay? What happened?" He rushes over and examines me, just as my mom did a moment before.

As I try to calm my parents, I mentally kick myself for not cleaning up before coming home. I get them to sit down and start telling them about my first day at my new school. I tell them about the fight with the punks, the Morse Code conversation in detention, the fight with Carter and the discussion back at John's house.

The whole Judgment Day thing throws them for a bit of a loop. Mom's reporter instincts kick in. In less than a minute, she fires off twenty questions that I don't know the answers to. I find myself wishing that I'd thought to ask John's mom a few of them.

Although, I'm not sure that she would've answered them anyway. I know that she was holding things back. Super-hearing is the only super sense that I've developed so far. Personally, I would prefer X-ray vision. What fifteen year old male wouldn't? But the hearing does have its advantages, particularly letting me monitor people's pulses.

My mom stops asking her questions and fixes a stare on me. It's the kind of stare that only a mother is capable of. I know what's coming. Fearless Girl Reporter has taken a backseat to the overprotective mother. Mom's figured out that I'm going to join up with them. "You're planning on helping them, aren't you?"

"Yes." I can't lie to Mom and Dad.

Mom replies, "Of all the… They leave you to deal with a rampaging battle droid, which nearly kills you; and now you're going to risk your life by helping them!"

Dad shifts nervously in his chair. I can hear his pulse quicken. It always does when Mom goes off on one of her tangents. However, I know he won't say anything. At least, not right away. Dad's too smart to draw undo attention to himself while Mom's fuming. He'll wait until her tangent has run its course and talk to her later. He always does.

"Mom, we're talking fate of the world here." I believe it. Should I hide it?

"Do you have any idea how tired I am of hearing stuff like that? You stuck up Kryptonians think that humanity just can't get along without you. Well, we managed for almost six thousand years before your father came along. They don't need you. I need you. You're **my **son."

I open my mouth, but my mom cuts me off before I can get anything out. "Screw the world!" And then her jaw moves, but no words come out. She forces herself through some deep breathing and tries to calm down. The look on her face finishes the statement that she wouldn't let escape from her mouth. _It's taken enough from me already._ Of course, She'd never say that out loud. Not in front of Dad, anyway. However, I can see it there. It's in her eyes as she almost pleads, "Can't you just live a normal life? Can't you just be my son?"

I sigh. I've already trained with Batman, Nightwing, WonderWoman, Superman, Huntress and the Flashes. I think the normal train left the station a long time ago. "No, Mom, I don't think I can." She turns and storms out of the room. Once she's out of view, I hear her start to softly cry.

I look down at the floor. My dad comes over. He puts an encouraging hand on my shoulder. I say, "I didn't think she'd be this upset."

"She's just afraid of losing you. We both are." He speaks softly, with controlled power.

"You don't want me to do this either, do you?" I ask.

My dad sighs. "Son, I'm going to tell you the same thing your Uncle Perry told me when I wanted to enlist in the Air Force. 'What I want isn't relevant here. When you choose to fight for something, the opinions of others never are. Because when it comes right down to it, they're not going to be out there with you. You and your unit are going to be all alone. The only question that you should be asking is if this is something that you're truly willing to fight for. Is it worth killing for? Is it worth dieing for?'"

"Dad, this is something that I have to do." I look into his eyes, willing him to understand. He usually does and explains it to Mom. "Yes, I'm willing to fight; and If I have to, I'm willing to die."

"And kill?" My dad's staring into my eyes, watching me carefully.

"I don't know." It's the truth. I've killed before. When I was five, a thug was chasing my mom. I was scared. I threw a piano at him. It was the first time I used my powers. Afterwards, I found that I was even more afraid. I wasn't afraid of the thug, but of myself. I look down. "Isn't fighting enough?"

After a moment, I look back up. My dad's staring at the wall as if he is watching something play out on the other side. He replies distantly. "I hope so son. I hope so. Killing is a horrible thing; but if it ever comes down to you or them..." His voice just trails off for a moment before he begins speaking again. "just do everything you can to come back to us."

"I will. I promise. But **I need to do this**." Most teenagers would say that about new shoes, or a trip to the video arcade. Here I am saying it about saving the world. I should be talking about this with Helena 'Huntress' Wayne or Carrie 'Kid Flash' West or even Richard 'Robin I/Nightwing' Grayson. They would understand.

"Well then, Son, I'll support you all the way." My dad pulls me into a hug and pats my back. Then he pulls away and says, "I'll go talk with your mother, while you get yourself cleaned up."

That's my dad. Superman may be my father, but Richard will always be my dad. I love them both, and I need them both. I carry my father within me. He's always strengthening and driving me to make the right choice, to do the right thing. But my dad is always at my side, helping me along. My father was with me when I learned to bend steel and break the sound barrier, but my dad was with me when I learned to walk and talk. Some kids don't even have one parent that truly loves them, but I'm lucky. I've got three, had three.

Great, now I'm depressed again. I go to my room and reach up one of my sleeves. I pull out the shredded remains of what was once my commemorative T-shirt and toss them onto my bed. Then I reach up my other sleeve and pull out Carter's chip. I open up a drawer in my nightstand and pull out the Nintendo DS that my parents gave me for my twelfth birthday.

I may be willing to fight and die to prevent Judgment Day, but I'm not going to just blindly follow John and his family. I'm not built that way. Maybe if they had been completely honest with me, things would be different; but they weren't. Even after I threatened to go to the cops, John's mother was still holding things back. Like my great uncle Perry always says, "Good reporters get their information from more than one source."

I take the DS apart, disconnecting its processor and wifi components. Then I insert Carter's chip and begin to hook it up. I'm no hacker. How anyone can wrap their heads around a world that only exists as fluctuating information, I don't know. However, I do enjoy working on the hardware side of things. I find it calming. There is nothing that takes the edge off quite as well as cannibalizing parts from three or four busted electronic devises and using them to construct one operational unit.

I finish integrating the terminator chip into my DS and turn it on. The lower screen turns red, and I hear Carter's voice come through the DS's internal speaker.

"What has happened to this unit?" Carter's voice is tinny and flat, coming thru a speaker that was designed to play the sound track to Supermario Bros.

I reply, "I've integrated your chip into a portable entertainment system."

"Why?" Carter asks. Showing curiosity. Interesting.

"Because the Connors destroyed your body. They were going to destroy your chip as well. I plucked it out of the pit before the flames could reach it." I made sure to move very quickly. I think that the girl might have caught what I did. While fighting Carter, I discovered that a terminator's vision is much faster than a human's. Cameron did glance over at me, but she didn't say anything. I don't know why. Although, she seemed reluctant to destroy the chip in the first place. Maybe, for some reason, she was glad that I saved it. To the others, my action wouldn't have been noticed as anything more then a slight breeze.

"Why?" Carter asks again. Exactly the same flat, tinny tone.

"I think that you may still have some value." I tell it. "Cameron said that your chip contained important information."

"This unit is not programmed to divulge relevant information to organic life forms, except in the course of furthering an objective."

I scratch my head as I try to get inside the thought process of a killing machine. "Yes. I know. You've already said that. But just what are your objectives?"

"This unit is not programmed to divulge relevant information to organic life forms, except in the course of furthering an objective."

"I guess that's your version of name, rank and serial number. Fine. Don't talk. Just listen." I stand up and begin to pace. It's a simple action, but it helps me think of the best way to phrase my words. The DS is still in my hand. "Whatever your objectives are, you can't complete them if you're destroyed. And if you don't keep me convinced that you have some worth, I will crush your chip. Therefore, divulging relevant information to me is in the course of furthering your objectives."

"This unit only projects a 0.23 percent chance that it can still complete any of it's objectives."

Good, that wasn't just the standard reply. He's thinking about my argument, trying to decide if it has any merit. "Well 0.23 percent is better than nothing." I tell it. "Your own programming requires that you continue to attempt to complete your objectives. In order to do that, you must continue to exist. In order for you to continue to exist, you must keep me convinced that you have some worth."

Carter doesn't answer.

I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one, but I figure that I can't lose by giving my words more time to sink in. I say, "I'll give you some time to think about it."

I put the DS on my nightstand and get out some clean clothes. Then I head to the bathroom. I place my clean clothes next to the sink. I go over to the shower and turn the hot water up all the way. I take off the football uniform and throw it into one of the corners. Then I step into the shower. The water is hot, scalding in fact. If I were a normal human, I would be instantly forced out of the stream, but I not a normal human. As the scalding water washes the day's dirt, grime and blood from my body, I think about my decision to help the Connors.

I know that John's mother was telling me the truth about Judgment Day, and that's the reason that I'm going to help them. I have the chance to save billions of lives here. When Doomsday struck, I didn't do everything that I should have.

Sure I put on an old Halloween costume and ran around assisting in the Metropolitan relief efforts. I pulled people from the rubble and helped to put out some fires, but I should've been helping my father fight that monster. I could see that my father was having trouble, but I was afraid. Everyone in Metropolis was afraid of that monster. He'd just beaten the Justice League to a pulp.

I wish I had the same courage as the League members. They were all lying broken, nearly dead, in the wake of Doomsday's rampage; but at least they fought. At least they tried to stop that monster. Even Bruce, a complete human, stood up to it. I wish that I had picked up more than a couple of fighting moves from my godfather. I wish that I'd gotten some of his bravery and determination, as well. Maybe then I would've joined in the fight. Maybe then my father would still be here. But I didn't. When the moment of truth came, I panicked. I let my father down. I won't let that happen again. I may not be able to bring my father back, but at least I can help him complete his mission.

My father once told me that his father said, "They can be a great people... They only lack the light to show the way." That's why my father was sent here. Well, I'm no light to show the way. I may not know everything that I am, but I know what I'm not. I'm not an ideal role model. I'm rebellious and defiant. I tend to lose control when I get angry. I'm no leader either. I'm not bad at manipulating people. You don't grow up with Lois Lane for a mother without picking up a few tricks, but I lack the ability to truly inspire others. That's the ability that is most important for a good leader, the only one he or she really needs. That kid, John, may have it, but I know I don't. Now, my father's gone. There's no longer a light to show the way, and it's my fault. I may not be a "Light to show the way"; but if I can just keep humanity from destroying itself long enough, maybe they can find it on their own.

I finish my shower and change into my clean clothes. I grab the football uniform and put it into the dirty laundry. I'll return it once it has been cleaned. I go into my room and get out a sewing kit. I sit down on my bed and begin to examine the shredded remains of my T-shirt.

One of the summers I spent with Grandma Kent, she taught me how to sew. I'm not as good at it as she is, but I can work a lot faster. As I begin, I speculate that it would probably be easier to just make a new shirt. However, a new shirt wouldn't have the same sentimental value as this one.

Evan at super speed, it takes a couple of hours before I'm done. However, I finish before my mom calls me down for supper. Neither of my parents are very good cooks. So we practically live on take out. Tonight, it's Chinese. We enjoy a nice supper. Mom doesn't say much, but I can tell that she's calmed down somewhat. I guess that Richard's talk did some good. I'm a little surprised. My mom's quite stubborn, probably were I get it from. It usually takes Dad longer to calm her down.

After supper is over and I spend the required "Family Time" with Mom and Dad, I head back to my room. I talk to Carter again. He informs me that he has decided to give me some information in return for his "continued operation.", but he makes it clear that he's not going to give away any trade secrets. That's fine. I don't need to know the ins and outs of terminator construction. It might be interesting, but it's not really important. What I want to know is dates, times and events. I want to know just how much of what John's mother told me is true and what kinds of things she's holding back.

A/N 2015 - This was originally Chapter 5, but I put the Steel Chapter up before it, to widen the world and introduce a Justice League hero. Or at least Justice League hero from before the New 52...This chapter was one of Metropolis_Kid's. I think he did a really good job portraying the parent sides of Lois and Richard.

Thank you all for continuing to read. If you're enjoying this story, why not click follow? Why not tell ten of your friends about Metropolis Kid and me? Also, if you have any questions or comments, please share them in the reviews.

Thanks and God bless.

St Thomas and Metropolis Kid


	7. Face Off

**Chapter 7: Face Off**

Original A/N – Attention fans, St Thomas here on the Flight Deck. This is your Captain speaking. Navigator Metropolis Kid will illuminate the fasten seat belts sign momentarily. Please find your seats and hang on for the ride.

**Day Two: ****The Los Angeles Planet**

Newspaper Editor Richard White's morning assignment meeting draws to a close. Some of the reporters start moving toward the elevators. That is of course, until Lois challenges Richard's assignment for her. "Investigating misuse of state gasoline tax monies in LA County for projects other than road work is not a fit assignment. You're wasting my talent. I want the school shooting."

Sensing a really juicy argument most of the staff return to the bullpen and pretend to review notes or look up some crucial bit of info on their computers. Really, they're listening to see how the new boss would handle his star reporter wife.

"Tell me what you really think, Lane." Richard gives a thin smile.

"You're holding me back from a juicy assignment, because you! You! You!" Lois stammers.

"I'll take the tax thing, Chief." Simmes pipes up. "I minored in -"

The rest of the reporters sigh or roll their eyes. _Simmes the suck up._

Richard finishes Simmes' sentence"-accounting at University of Missouri where you studied journalism. I read you bio." Richard takes the assignment sheet back from Lois and passes it to Simms. "Not sure of your prose, though Simmes. Get Philmont on the editorial page to help you with rewrites." He takes Simmes' assignment sheet.

"Alright, Lois," the Editor passes the reporter her assignment sheet, "you can have the school shooting story, but Rayner goes along as your photographer."

"Why? because you flew with him?" Lois challenges this decision as well

White begins to tick of qualities on his fingers, "Rayner's tough as nails. He was top graduate in our class at Survival and Evasion school. He'll bring you both back alive. And he takes outstanding ph-"

"But can he take pictures?" Has the fight gone out of Lois or is she warming up for the second round?

Kyle Rayner's ears burn as his old friend, the new boss and the new boss's wife talk about him like he isn't even there. From the back of the room, he raises a hand. "Er, excuse me?"

Both Richard and Lois turn to Kyle and say, "Quiet!"

Richard continues calmly with one hand partially extended palm open. "He's a painter. He has an excellent eye for lighting, color and form. He's no Jimmy Olson, but then few are."

"I don't need a chaperone. I'll take Jack." Lois points to another photographer, and starts for the elevators. "His pix have won awards."

"Lane, Rayner, my office." Richard declares with finality. Then he spreads both of his arms, gently bending them at the elbows and pointing his palms at the ceiling. "Everyone else, what are you waiting for? Christmas? We've got a newspaper to publish!"

Inside his office Richard loosens his tie and hangs his blazer from a hanger on a hat tree, "Lois, we lost your cousin Chloe back on Sept 11, 2001. Jason lost his father, Clark, last month."

"Emm, guys," Kyle anticipates more of a verbal thrashing or maybe some make up kissing that wouldn't be appropriate for him to see. "Maybe I'll just wait outside the door."

"Go." Lois looks out the windows. The view isn't as good as the view from Perry's office back in Metropolis. But it beat looking at a brick wall.

"Stay." Richard turns to Kyle, and claps him on the shoulder "Kyle, you were my wingman back in the first Gulf War. We flew together and fought through that ground ambush together. We've saved each other's lives a time or three. Stay."

Richard turns back to Lois, "Honey, you're looking into something that managed to get the best of our son. Think what it could do to you."

"Think what will happen to us, to our son, if another paper or another reporter finds out about him." Lois' eyes betray genuine concern.

Richard locks eyes with Lois and touches his nose. Then he turns to the photographer, "Kyle, old friend, in the course of this investigation, you may learn some of my family's most closely guarded secrets. If you value my friendship, my family's friendship, you'll guard them with your life."

"Okay, done," Rayner says, tersely.

"Good, we're settled," Richard's gase takes in both his wife and his friend.

Lois turns to Kyle and smiles as well. "Let's go see what the Crime Lab has on the scene of the shooting."

"In Los Angeles we call it the Scientific Investigation Division, Lois." Kyle points out. _Why do I have a bad feeling about this?_

**Day Two: Jason White**

Seven and half hours earlier, just after midnight, Jason found the Connors packing again. Had they seen the same news story he had about the shootings and the fight at school and concluded that one of the Terminators would come for John? "Wait!" Jason called in through the kitchen door. "I have an idea. I saw this in an episode of JAG. We make a John mask for me."

"What?!" Sarah exclaimed. She turned back to her family and said, "Everyone keep working."

Jason kept trying to explain his plan. "No, look it's like..." He knew he was reaching as he thought of some kind of example to give the Connors, and it suddenly hit him... "It'll be like that John Woo movie, _Face/ Off_ or something. You know, the one with Nicholas Cage and John Travolta."

Everyone stopped and looked at Jason. Sarah and John had varying degrees of horror on their faces. Evidently they remembered the movie where an FBI agent had impersonated a comatose terrorist by having his own face surgically removed and the villain's face attached in its place. Cameron and Derek just looked slightly confused. Apparently, watching movies wasn't a high priority in the future.

Sarah said, "Work faster!" The family members were about to scurry back to their rooms and gather a few possessions and weapons.

"Hear me out!" Jason said, slightly exasperated. "We'll do it without surgery. We'll just use plaster to make molds of my face and John's. Then we use latex to make a mask that's shaped like my face on the inside and John's on the outside."

"That sounds like a tight plan." Cameron declared. She pirouetted across the living room. She went to where Jason stood. He held some shopping bags. Her eyes went out of focus and she looked lost for a fraction of a second. Then she stepped up very close to Jason and reached out with one hand to touch him tenderly on his cheek. "Do you realize that you are volunteering to face off against another Terminator?"

Jason replied, "I've been accused of a lot of things in my life, but having good judgment was never one of them."

Cameron cocked her head to the side. If anything she looked truly confused now.

Jason smiled, "That was a joke."

Cameron said, "Oh, thank you for explaining." She righted her head and continued, "I will help you with the deception. It should be successful. At least, for a while."

Derek stood up from where he was packing his things next to the couch. Sarah emerged from her room. They looked at each other then at John. Sarah held up her hands. "You guys can try it. But I'll finish packing."

"And I'll get the explosives ready." Derek walked over to the kitchen and started pulling out household cleaners from under the sink.

Cameron looked at John and silently curled a finger at him. He walked over to where she stood next to the refrigerator. She positioned both John and Jason so that they blocked Derek's view. She grabbed out some Diet Cokes, as Derek looked over.

"Great. Thanks." John sounded a little forced.

"Mmmm. Diet Coke is my favorite." Jason sounded genuine. Diet Coke actually was his favorite soda: light, crisp, refreshing. Not heavy or syrupy.

He felt a little surprised that Cameron gave him a drink. He was here offering to pose as John and risk his life fighting a cold, calculating Machine that would kill him as soon as look at him, if that furthered its objectives. Thirst wasn't really on Jason's mind right then, and he wouldn't have thought it to be on hers either.

Derek looked over at the gaggle of kids at the fridge and dismissed them as he saw the boys sipping sodas. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and walked over to the laundry closet.

Jason realized that Cameron had offered them the sodas to distract Derrek.

Cameron squatted down and pulled open the meat drawer. Out came a zip lock bag that made John want to gag. Jason looked at it, curiously. It was full of slices of something that looked like human skin on the outside and meat on the inside.

The fembot placed one finger next to her lips and tried to look conspiratorial. The zip lock bag dropped into Jason's Wal-Mart bag, and Cameron grabbed both boys by their collars. Jason appreciated her subterfuge.

Out in the detached garage where 'Carter' had disintegrated in the 2500 degree fires of thermite, just hours ago, John spoke first. "What is it with you?" He looked at Cameron and his tone sounded angry. He leaned against the work bench and sullenly crossed arms that were covered in thermal underwear and a flannel shirt. "First you saved Vick's chip. Now you've saved his synthetic flesh."

Cameron replied, "And it's a good thing, too. Latex would only work from a distance. This will pass, even up close."

John wagged his head, unconvinced.

Jason looked fascinated as he lifted the zip lock bag and examined its contents. "What is this stuff?"

Cameron answered, "Synthetic flesh from a T-888. The T-888s were the first models with mimetic technology. They had expandable arms, legs, and spines as well as hips and chest cavities that could be reshaped.

"Okay, that's interesting. But what does it have to do with my posing as John?" Jason handed the zip lock bag to Cameron as she reached for it.

Cameron pushed up her arm warmers and opened the bag. She explained in monotone "This synthetic flesh is transformable. Infuse it with skin cells from John's face and it will become John's face."

John seemed curious. He relented for a moment as Cameron approached with pocket knife. She gently scraped skin from John's neck, cheeks, eyebrows, and scalp. Then she cut off a section of the synthetic flesh. Kneading it with her hands, she worked in the cell samples from John's face and right before their eyes, the flesh began to transform. Soon they could make out John's chin, cheeks, and forehead. Cameron continued working the artificial flesh with her very real looking fingers.

After a few minutes of staring with his own face displaying a look of utter fascination, Jason extended a hand to take a nearly perfect copy of John's face. The skin now looked absolutely real. All it was missing was hair.

"Now we just make a mold of Jason's face to wrap it around." Cameron explained. "Keep it moist and cool over night, and it should grow hair, eyebrows and facial stubble by the morning. Don't try to shave it. You might cut through it in some places."

Jason just stared at Cameron for a moment. He found the female android both captivating and creepy. She reminded him somewhat of an older strawberry blond that he had met five years earlier.

After a few hours' sleep, Jason White rides his bike to school this morning. Normally this year, he would walk or run to school. For years before this, all the way back to kindergarten in fact, his mother had insisted that he be driven to school. Even after his speed powers started to manifest themselves, she or his Dad had continued to drive him. Usually it was his dad who drove him, and that had been a saving grace to the whole endeavor. Other students looked upon him with respect or jealousy that he got that daily time with his Dad.

Today he needs some time to think. Also, his plan for dealing with Cromartie, or whatever other Terminator shows up, requires the bike.

He feels a little guilt for leaving the house early with his mother still upset at him. He figures she is still mad about his decision to risk his life by helping the Connors.

Jason reflected upon the crazy situation he has gotten himself into. He wondered what his pal Rebecca would say about this mess.

Cameron had showed him some of the weak points of the T-888. She hoped that, with Jason's

greater speed, he would be able to exploit them.

He hadn't learned very much from 'Carter.' The Machine had given him the barest outline of future history.

According to 'Carter,' a U.S. Military Artificial Intelligence network called Skynet would become self-aware and learn the aggression and paranoia of its human masters. Skynet would go rogue. Turning upon its masters in the Pentagon and the whole human race, Skynet would nuke the world and send out its Machine minions, robots and androids, to kill and enslave the survivors. John Connor would lead the human Resistance from the rubble to victory over Skynet and its Machines. The rogue AI network had calculated that John must be erased from history and employed time travel in various attempts to do so.

So far, the Machines had tried to kill John four times. In 1984 before he was born, Skynet had struck at his mother. In 1997, 1999 and 2007 it tried again. Each time the Resistance had sent back a protector. First a man, Kyle Reese, had protected John's mother. The last three times John's protector had been a Machine, a Terminator, that had been reprogrammed to favor humans.

This was pretty sketchy but it backed up Sarah's story. Jason wondered how it would be possible to defeat an AI network that used time travel as a weapon and couldn't be reasoned with. _This sounds like a job for Superman. _Jason sighed._ Too bad he's not around. So, the job falls to me. How can I be up to it? I'm not my father's equal._

I heard his voice in my head_. _**"Do what you can. Until you can't. That's all any of us can do; no one has the right to ask for more."**

_What if it's not enough? What if I'm not strong enough._

"**Then you will make my strength your own. Just as I did my father's before me. All that he left to me, all that I have learned and felt, all that I have will be yours one day, my son. You are never alone. Even in the face of my own death, I will never leave you. You will always carry my spirit within you just as I carried my father's before you. And you have allies, my son. Friends you know, and those you have yet to meet will aid you in your quest. Watch carefully, my son. For you must discern friend from foe, light from darkness."**

It's time to set aside my guilt over my father's death. I'll need to deal with it eventually, but I don't have the time right now. I must concentrate on carrying on his never ending battle for Truth, Justice and above all Hope: The hope for better tomorrow, a tomorrow without the tyranny of the Terminators. The first step on that Journey is aiding the Connors in keeping John alive and defeating the Terminators they face here in Los Angeles.

**John Connor. In the middle of the school day.**

_How did I get here?_

_Most people don't ask themselves that question at my age unless they've gotten turned around in the mall and can't find the food court or the video arcade. But I'm not lost in the mall. I'm sitting in the back of an ambulance waiting for Paramedic Charlie Dixon. Charlie is the first man I ever really trusted, the first man who ever treated me like his son. He's going to drive me away to safety._

_My name is John Connor and nothing in my life is ever as simple as it seems._

_Take the girl sitting next to me for instance. Jason White thought she was my girlfriend. Morris Garbanzo from auto shop class thinks she's my stepsister. Neither of these is true. Yes, she has a pulse, I measured it in health class the day I met her in Red Valley, AZ. Yes, she practices ballet to classical music in her room when she thinks no one's watching. Yes, I've seen her stare at paintings on school trips to art museums and talk to our classmates and teachers about what message the painter was trying to communicate. She even wrote a poem once. Truly, though, she's not even a person, because underneath the perfect skin of her beautiful body is not bone and muscle, but a Coltan alloy endoskeleton with mechanical muscles. Next to her small heart are not two large lungs but a single small one and several hydrogen powercells. Behind her bottomless brown eyes that I sometimes catch myself lost in, and underneath her lovely brunette tresses (that she has to wash and blow dry like any normal girl) lies not a brain, but a neural network processor, a learning computer._

_She's not really my stepsister, or my girlfriend; she's my guardian sent back through time by me or the Reisistance to see that I live to adulthood, so I can lead the Resistance in the War Against the Machines._

_So you see nothing in my life is as simple as it first appears._

_How did I get here, sitting in this ambulance waiting for a paramedic who wanted to be my father to drive me to safety? Well, it started back in 1984 before I was born. Yeah, like most people Mom and Dad met and fell in love. But that's where the similarity between me and most people ends._

_When you look a little deeper, things get more complex really fast._

_Mom didn't meet Dad at a malt shop or school dance. She met him at a nightclub, typical enough. But she wasn't there to dance the night away. Mom was waiting for the Police to take her into protective custody because someone was killing all the women in LA who had her name. The killer was moving methodically, killing 'his' victims in the order they were listed in the phone book._

_Dad didn't ask her to dance; he put five rounds from a rifle into the 'man' who was trying to kill her. Except the man trying to kill her wasn't a man, nor did the five rounds kill it. It was a Machine, a Terminator. It had no pulse, no heart, no brain, no love of music, no appreciation of art just a titanium endoskeleton with mechanical muscles covered in synthetic flesh and a neural network processor with just one thought: _kill all the women in Los Angeles named Sarah Connor.

_Dad did keep her alive, they did fall in love, and they did make me. Yeah, that's right. I sent my dad back in time to meet my mom and get her pregnant with me. My whole life is a time paradox, waiting to unravel. Oh, and by the way, they destroyed the Terminator, too. But not before it mortally wounded my dad. So the story I always tell people, the one about my dad being a soldier who died on a mission before I was born, is actually true. Sort of._

_The Machines tried again in 1997 when I was thirteen and then once more in 1999 when I was fifteen. Both times, future me sent a protector back through time to make sure that I lived. Evidently, in the future I will grow weary of sending soldiers to their deaths, because my last guardian and this one are both Machines reprogrammed to protect me._

_Now, why am I still in Mr St Thomas's 9th grade Algebra 1 class in 2007? Oh yeah, that's easy, because my robot girl protector convinced us to Time Jump over the years between 1999 and 2007. We'd drop out of history for eight years. The Machines wouldn't be looking for us again for a while. And I would still be in ninth grade._

Cameron shoves my arm and breaks me out of my reverie. "I hear Charlie's footsteps and someone else's. Get ready. We may have to run."

We crouch in the center of the ambulance where we can see out the windshield and the back windows, but no one glancing in would see us.

As Charlie opens a panel in the side of his Ambulance, a black man with very little hair and a goatee walks up wearing a gray suit, with a pale dress shirt and no tie. "Mr. Dixon," he speaks with a smile, "we meet again. What's it been, eight years?"

Unless he gets riled up, Charlie doesn't say much to people he doesn't know well, "Something like that, Agent Ellison."

"It's good to see you again." The Agent smiles and extends a hand.

The Paramedic chooses not to take it. He presses his lips together, and then he speaks, "I have a sick kid in my bus. I have to go." He puts his kit bag inside the panel and pulls out a clip board with a duty log on it. He places the clip board under an elbow and closes the panel

"So, if I open the back of this ambulance, I'm not going to find John Connor back there with his girlfriend?" Ellison pointed jovially with an open hand.

Charlie replied emphatically, "No, like I told you eight years ago, I don't know a John Connor. John Reese, though, he was like a son to me." Charlie's never loud, always very controlled, but his manner carries great emphasis. "And his mother Sarah Reese, who I asked to be my wife, was not like the Sarah Connor you described to me eight years ago: crazed, delusional and schizophrenic. She was kind, loving, generous and single minded."

The Agent really struck a nerve with Charlie, because he keeps on going. It's good to hear him say all of this. After the better part of a decade, and the weirdness he's seen with us over these past weeks, Charlie still cares. "So, don't ask me again about any rogue Artificial Intelligence computer networks declaring war on the world and sending robots back through time to kill people. You were the first and only person to ever mention any of those things to me."

Ever jovial, Agent Ellison asks, "So you haven't had any contact with Sarah Connor recently?"

Charley clicks a pen and begins making an entry in the duty log. "Look, Agent Ellison. You're a nice guy, smart, polite, well spoken, but I've got a sick kid to take care of, and I have already answered that question to another agent working out of your office. Like I told him when he came by my house: the woman I knew eight years ago, Sarah Reese...she got blown up in a bank vault in 1999. It was on CNN. Maybe you saw it."

"I did see it on CNN, Fox News, too." Ellison agreed, smiling. "The reports said Sarah, her son John and an unidentified female were attacked and blown up in a bank vault, by a crazed multiple amputee with artificial limbs."

"So then you know she's dead." Charley puts his pen back in the same pocket he took it from, places the clipboard back under his elbow and walks around the Ambulance to open the driver's door.

"Maybe yes, maybe no." Agent Elison gives Charley a few feet lead and then moves to the front quarter panel and speaks to the paramedic over the engine compartment of his Ambulance. "There's a lot of things about this case that don't add up. Yet, I can't get past the feeling that it's only because I don't have all the numbers." Ellison looks into the sky for a moment, and then continues gesturing with both hands, "Mr. Dixon, do you know what the shooting that took place here has in common with Sarah Connor's last day in 1999 and a old school shooting in Red Valley, Arizona?"

"I haven't a clue, Agent Ellison, not one." Charley switched his clipboard to the other arm.

Now the Agent's voice carried some intensity, "The assailant in all three cases was reported to have one or more robotic limbs. I don't believe in coincidences. At least, not when they involve murder cases."

Cameron said quietly, "John, that agent knows too much. He could be dangerous. I'm going to have to kill him."

"Have you still not figured it outl, Cameron? My last protector was with me for only a few weeks and he figured it out." John held a hand out, palm up, like he was gripping an invisible basketball. "You just can't go around killing people. Especially not FBI Agents."

"What about criminals," Cameron turns to John momentarily distracted, and her face brightens, "can I kill criminals?"

"Ssshhhhh."

As the Paramedic reaches for the door of the ambulance, the Agent poses one final question, "Did you say that another agent questioned you about Sarah Connor?"

"Yup. Don't you guys talk to each other?" Dixon straps his clipboard to the roof of the driver's compartment, over the drivers' seat.

"Usually. But I'm the only agent assigned to this case." Ellison looked thoughtful and placed a hand on the back of his own neck. "Who was it?"

"Kestrel, maybe? Hold on I have his card in my wallet." Charley pulls out his wallet and removes the card. "Kester."

Ellison extends his hand. "Could I have that card?"

"Sure, I don't want it." Dixon hands the card over.

Ellison takes the card carefully by its edge and places it in a tiny zip lock bag. He seals the bag. "Thank you Mr. Dixon. Thank you for doing your civic duty. I'll let you go now and take care of your sick kid. Take my card, instead." Ellison hands a business card to Charley through the driver's window. "When you're ready to talk, give me a call. We'll add up all of our numbers and see if we can't figure this whole thing out."

Charlie takes the card, gives a flat smile and climbs up into the cab.

_So, How..did I get here in this ambulance? I'm coming to that._

After first period, John walked out of Mr. St. Thomas's Algebra 1 classroom, and Jason walked out of Mrs. Tien's just down the hall way. Cameron walked up to both of them. "Cromartie is here, posing as Agent Kester. We have to go." She took John by the arm.

"You guys go after Sarkassian." Jason started taking off his shirt. "I'll handle Cromartie."

John caught on that if Jason was to pose as him he would have to be wearing the same clothes. John shrugged out of his unbuttoned collared shirt and then removed his old Pearl Jam concert shirt.

Cameron turned to Jason, licked her left index finger. She touched Jason's muscular chest and moved the finger down over the young man's washboard abs.

Other students in the hallway began to ooh and aah.

Jason and John passed their shirts to each other and no one seemed to notice that. They all seemed captivated by a moment of sexual tension between Cameron and Jason.

John shrugged into Jason's green t-shirt with an over-sized, stylized, lantern-shaped white outline on it.

Jason threw John's button down shirt around his shoulders, grabbed his bag and John's Pearl Jam concert shirt and strode off toward the bathroom. He needed the privacy of a stall to put on the mask.

Cameron grabbed John by the arm again and shoved him insistently down the hall towards an exit door.

A compact powerfully built man with short dark hair, laugh lines around his eyes and a face that was both kind and serious walked around the corner in front of them. He carried a black kit bag, and wore a dark uniform with a paramedic's badge.

"Charlie, hi." John greets him.

Cameron looks Charlie up and down. Her eyes narrow as the difference engine that is her mind computes probabilities. She continues leading John toward the door. All she says is "We have to go. Now."

"Don't go out that door." Charlie points them toward the stairs instead. "There's an FBI agent out there talking with an Assistant Principal."

"What does he look like?" Cameron asks.

"He's black, well spoken with very little hair and a goatee. He's wearing a gray suit with a good shirt, but no tie. Name is James Ellison."

John recalls, "He's the one who was after my mom, back in 97."

"John is sick." Cameron states flatly. She turns to Charley, "Can you help him?"

"Yeah, my ambulance is up stairs on the far end of the building near the second floor entrance. I'll meet you guys out there in a few minutes.

_Some trade off. We go after a second rate Armenian gangster named Sarkassian while Jason goes a few rounds with a T-888. Kid's got courage. Maybe Superman really was his father._

**Day Two after school**

Jason, in his disguise as John, leaves school at the end of the day. He'd taken a tire iron from Auto Shop class to steal his own bike. _Can't let Cromartie see 'John Connor' open the combination on Jason White's bike and compute something amiss, now can we_?

Peddling nervously back toward the Connors' house, he can't see Cromartie following him. But he can hear it. Or rather, Jason's enhanced hearing picks out the driver who has whirring mechanical noises instead of a heart beat.

A few blocks away from the school, Cromartie makes its first move. The Terminator tries to run 'John' over with its car, jumping the curb into the parking lot of a pawn shop.

Lightning quick reflexes enable 'John' to dodge around a light post and down a narrow alley next to a boarded up convenience store. The alley proves too narrow and the Crown Victoria the Machine drives grinds to a halt.

Undeterred, the Terminator rams its left hand through the roof of the car, tearing the synthetic flesh away from its knuckles, bloodying the sleeve of its plain white dress shirt and ripping the seams of it's black suit coat. Ignoring the physical damage and the fashion emergency, it quickly rips the roof of the car open from the inside. It leaps out of the passenger compartment drawing two Sig-Sauer 9mm semi-automatic pistols as it lands on the hood. It hops down from the mangled hood to sprint faster than a world champion athlete toward the end of the alley way and the open field beyond.

What looks like an open field turns out to be the public utility easement where high tension electric wires run suspended from giant metal towers. Cromartie makes this observation while it lunges and tumbles through the air. It wonders how 'John' managed to trip it and increase its momentum from behind a dumpster, as it smashes into the base of the nearest electric utility tower. One side of the tower crumples under the impact of a 450 lb Terminator moving at 123 miles per hour. Several high tension wire connectors weaken. None snap. Yet.

"All right, tin can! Let's settle this, right now!" 'John' screams and begins charging over toward the Terminator. He howls and runs just a bit faster than a normal human would.

By the time the Terminator has run internal diagnostics and stood up, 'John' has crossed half of the 100 m that separate the back of the businesses from the power lines. The Terminator takes aim with its one remaining Sig-Sauer, the other having been lost during the trip.

Time seems to slow down for 'John' as he speeds up his perceptions, the way he would if he were running at the speed of sound. Cromartie slowly points its weapon. It pulls the trigger like a turtle. 'John' dives for the ground as a full clip of 9mm ammo roars by over his head. _Neo, eat your heart out._

Above the brawl a single high tension wire snaps.

While the wire falls, the Machine drops the clip out of its weapon.

'John' rolls up off the ground and accelerates toward the Machine.

Cromartie grabs another clip from its belt.

'John' hits the Machine in a flying tackle at close to 500 miles per hour. He puts all his force into the Machine's left arm, bending it up to the correct angle and wrenching it off. The second Sig-Sauer flys away.

While the Machine processes the damage done to it and its difference engine of a mind grinds through all the possibilities of how this could be happening, 'John' rips the synthetic flesh away from the wrist of the arm he's holding.

At lightning speed, the lad grabs the fallen electrical wire and endures the 50,000 Volts coursing through his body. He wraps it around the exposed coltan 'bones' and proceeds to smack Cromartie squarely in the chest with the electrified ball joint in the shoulder of its arm. A wicked popping sound comes from within the Machine's chest as its artificial skin really sizzles under the assault of the electric current.

'John' winds up for another swing and manages to whack the Terminator upside the head before a wave of nausea staggers him where he stands. He hasn't felt anything like this since that day in Lex Luthor's yacht a decade ago. This is just a hundred times more intense. Kryptonite. Pure refined kryptonite. How? Where?

Cromartie regains the advantage as 'John' drops the electrified arm and rolls on the ground. The Machine wraps a leg around 'John,' winds up its right arm and delivers a straight right that would have decapitated a heavyweight champion boxer.

'John's' face splits open satisfyingly. But another face is revealed beneath. And now the equation in Cromartie's mind balances as it sees a familiar spit curl beneath the face of John Connor. The Terminator does not know the name of the young man posing as John Connor, but only one other inhabitant of the planet Earth ever had a spit curl that distinctive: Kal-El of Krypton. Superman.

The Terminator rips the false face off, revealing the true one underneath. "You are revealed, Son of Kal-El! As your father was slain by the Monster, so shall I slay you." The Terminator stands up and reaches into the scorched and charred flesh of its chest. It pulls out something that looks like a pistol's ammunition clip. It glows green at the end.

"This unit was originally sent back to the time when your father was alive, so this unit was equipped with Kryptonite powercells. This one ruptured when you assaulted this unit with its electrified arm. In less than a minute, the powercell will explode" The Terminator sets the powercell down next to the Last Scion of Krypton and picks up its arm. "Time to die, Superboy," it sneers, then turns and runs away at speed.

Jason barely manages to jog over to the dumpster, climb in and pull the steel lid down before the powercell reaches critical mass and detonates in a blinding green-white flash and an ear-splitting crack. The blast wave knocks the dumpster over onto its side, but the steel shields the Son of Superman from some of the Kryptonite radiation.

When the young man pushes the lid open, panting, sweating and nauseous, he sees the pile of melted steel slag where the partially crumpled high tension tower stood seconds earlier. Jason looks for his bike and sees it mangled against the brick wall of a building. He staggers to the end of the alley and struggles to climb over a bent up Crown Victoria that looks more like an opened sardine can, than a car.

He falls off the trunk and rolls up on one knee. Jason vomits all over the ground next to the trunk of the Crown Vic. He knows that he has radiation poisoning. He hears an echo of his father's voice telling him that he needs sunlight. It's a cloudy day. He wishes that he could fly.

Jason pulls out his cell phone but its fried by the EMP from the blast of the powercell. He looks around dizzily and sees that cars are stalled in the street and people are looking puzzled at their digital devices.

He falls and wonders how he can survive this._ Diana?_ Do Amazons have telepathy?

Jason's vision fades. He hears the sound of an antique Chevy drive up. A door opens. A voice he doesn't recognize says, "Come with me if you want to live." Hands pick him up. Then he blacks out.

Thank you all for reading. If you enjoyed this chapter, tell your friends. And by all means, tell us what you thought about it in the comments/reviews.

A/N 2015 – This version has all the same scenes in it that the original version did, but I've re-ordered them, so that the story unfolds in something a little more like chronological order. I'm employing a technique of starting with a somewhat exciting scene and then rewinding to an earlier point, instead of. This version ends in the same place as the earlier version but almost nothing else is in the same order.

I'm continuing to widen the world here, bringing in more of the supporting cast from Sarah Connor Chronicles and DC Comics. For those of you purists out there, I admit from the start that my version of Kyle Rayner is composite character of Kyle and Hal Jordan. In the comics, Kyle was only an artist. I think Green Lantern needs the military or police background, so I borrowed the fighter pilot part of Hal Jordan's personality and added that into Kyle.

Have a good day, and God bless!

St Thomas and Metropolis Kid


	8. Investigating the Investigators

**Chapter 8: No Comment**

AN: Co-written by Metropolis Kid and Chris St Thomas.

2015 Author's Note: Earlier versions of this chapter had J'onn J'onzz in the role of Charlie Dixon's partner. We only saw him as a human paramedic in this chapter, but we got to hear some of his thoughts regarding looking out for Jason. I think his lines were inspired some lines from the Martian Manhunter's incarnation in the Smallville TV show, something about continuing to honor his promise to Jor-El. I don't remember why Metropolis Kid nixed J'onzz's appearance here. Maybe because he was still laid up with injuries from his battle with Doomsday? I don't have those earlier drafts anymore, at least not anywhere that I can get to them easily, so I can't accurately restore that part.

**Day Two Charlie Dixon, Paramedic**

I got John and the Very Scary Robot Girl away from the school, back to their house and gave them a chance to go after this Sarkassian guy.

"Oh, and Charlie, one more thing..." John turned back to me as walked up the driveway of his mom's house. "A friend of ours will need some help this afternoon. Probably not very far from the school. It will be obvious. You don't want to be close by when it goes down, but be able to get there fast, okay?"

I ran another call and returned to the stationhouse to write up the paperwork.

_Apparently Sarkassian is some kind of mob figure who acquired a chess playing AI. Sarah thinks it may be the seed that grows into Skynet. I'm not really in that part of her life yet. Not sure that I want to be. Not sure that I don't. For me, the jury is still out. In fact, I wouldn't believe what the Connors have gotten tangled up in, if I hadn't seen it for myself._

_I patched John's uncle Derrick back together a few weeks ago after his gunshot wound. I came back to their house in street clothes after my shift to check on him. Then I saw IT. The body bag IT was in must have weighed over 200 pounds, yet Cameron carried IT over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes._

_Outside in the detached garage, she laid IT out in a foot hight rectangle of concrete cinder blocks and removed the bag. It looked like a corpse from a distance but as I got closer, I saw the missing hand with shiny metal rods where the radius and ulna bones should have been and control wires in place of tendons. It had some skin peeled away from its face and underneath was not bone. I'll give you three guesses what was underneath, but you won't need two. It was more metal._

_I went back inside the house to check on Derrick and talk with Sarah._

_When I came back out I saw Cameron pouring powder into the concrete block rectangle where the thing had laid before. Now it looked down right freaky. Stripped of it's outer human appearance it looked decidedly menacing. I could see the metal skeletal frame that mimicked a human skeleton. I saw the servos and pistons that replaced the muscles. The amount of armor and redundant systems inside IT told me IT was built for combat and as a former Marine, I should know._

_I could believe that something like that could be on some military engineer's design terminal somewhere now, but nothing like that could be built today. The individual parts, yes; but the whole thing constructed and walking around and passing for human? No. Not possible. Not today. So where did it come from?_

_As crazy as it sounds, it had to come from the future. Occam's Razor: when you eliminate the impossible, the simplest explanation that fits the facts is probably right._

_Cameron told me that inside she was a lot like that thing._

_She lit a flare and dropped it into the rectangle of concrete blocks and the powder burst into flames so hot that even she had to leave the garage. It looked like the fires of hell reclaiming a metal demon._

_Sometime I'll have to figure out how to tell my wife about all of this and soon. It's starting to come between us. Although, I'll have to decide where I stand first. For now I'm finishing up the paperwork on a call and pondering the last thing John said before he took off with his Machine Girl, "A friend of ours will need help...It will be obvious." _

Charlie hears the ear splitting crack off to the northwest. Looking out through the open garage of the firehouse, he sees a green tinted mushroom cloud expanding into the sky. _Obvious? That'll be him._ He crosses the i's and dots the t's, knowing that his supervisors will live with it, and throws the paperwork into the basket. He and his partner hop in their ambulance and Charlie puts on lights and siren, racing to the scene.

As they get closer, Charlie has to maneuver around several stalled cars in the street. He notices people standing outside half the shops and most of them are looking at their cell phones like they've all gone haywire.

_There was a minor electromagnetic pulse here. _Charlie realizes._ Could it have been some kind of small nuke or the power core of a Terminator?_

"Look at that kid stumbling out from the narrow alley!" Charlie's partner calls.

_Must be John's friend. Does anyone John knows ever have a normal day? First Derrick, then Cameron, now this kid. "_It looks like someone tried to jam a wide car into that narrow alleyway."

My partner gawks, "Dude, do you see the roof of that Crown Vic that's wedged into the alley?"

The car's roof looks like something ripped it open from the inside. The kid's got bad burns on his face and arms. _What am I getting myself into?_

The Paramedics exchange glances of silent communication and as Charlie parks, his partner jumps in back. He and starts gathering the radiation sickness kit together and the Hazmat suits. "Do you know what that is there in the alley?" The partner hands a suit to Charlie.

Charlie climbs into the back as well to begin donning the suit. "A car that didn't fit?"

"It's an SEP. Someone Else's Problem."

We share a chuckle at that. Sometimes laughter is all that keeps us sane.

Out the window, we see the kid stumble, fall to one knee and puke all over the ground.

The Paramedics climb out the back of the ambulance wearing their Hazmat suits and carrying a gurney. "Come with me if you want to live." Charlie tells the kid.

His partner looks at him with a huge question mark in his expression. _How do I tell him that what I just said is like a challenge and password with the Connors and their allies? I can't. So I don't. _They both spray the kid down with decontamination solution.

They lift the kid up onto the gurney so they can get him into the bus. He weighs more than he appears too. _Higher molecular density or is 'he' another bot, like Cameron._ The kid gags and dry heaves._That answers the question. Who would design a bot with a reflex action like that_. Charlie start an IV of saline with anti-radiation meds in the kid's left arm while his partner treats the burns.

The kid's mumbling about Amazons and sunlight. The partner pull his I.D.s: "Jason White."

Charlie plugs his cell phone into a jack in the suit. He calls the Amazon Consulate in Los Angeles, drops the kid's name and tells them what probably happened. Actually he leaves out the part about killer robots from the future. The third loveliest female voice he's ever heard (Sarah Connor and his wife are a tie at the moment) asks his location and tells him to wait there.

While Charlie is on the phone, his partner elevates Jason's feet and grabs a blanket for him.

Both Paramedics begin to remove their Hazmat suits. A roaring whine sounds over the ambulance. The partner looks out the back of the bus. "There's nothing up there. What's going on?"

"Amazon invisible aircraft." Charlie says as he climbs out the back to get a look himself.

His partner nods as if that explains everything.

They're both staring up at the place in the sky where the whine and the hard down draft of hot air are coming from when a gorgeous babe, dressed in what looks like Ancient Greco-Roman battle armor climbs out of ...nothing, an invisible cockpit? She stands on air. She doesn't look Mediterranean and somehow that surprises Charlie. The air shimmers and the babe is revealed to be standing on the wing of a gray jet airplane hovering there like a Harrier JumpJet.

She sets the airplane down in the parking lot next to us. All three of us struggle to get the kid in there and away they fly.

My partner and I look at each other again. "S.E.P." I say.

"Wonder Woman, dude. That was Wonder Woman."

**Day Two**

**Lane and Rayner**

At the Scientific Investigation Division of LAPD, reporter Lois Lane and photojournalist Kyle Rayner walk up to an elevator. "Oh and we got some good quotes from the LA County Sheriffs Office." Mad Dog Lane is hot on the trail and enjoying herself.

"All right, that's true, but we didn't actually learn anything new." Rayner switches the settings on his camera's flash from outdoor/ daylight to indoors/ electric light.

"Well all the good evidence should be here." Lane responds.

"That is what the Deputy told us at LACS."

After the elevator, they make their way the controlled access counter for SID. There's two sets of doors next to a small window with an officer. "Hi there! I'm reporter Lois Lane with _The LA Planet _and this is my photographer Kyle Rayner." Lois and Kyle slid their Press Passes under the quarter inch gap in the window glass.

The uniformed officer examines the Press Passes and slides them back. "So, how can SID help the _Planet_ today?" She speaks through a microphone like the ones at ticket booths.

Lois fakes a smile. "We'd like to get a comment on the school shooting from yesterday."

"Most of the investigation, witness canvassing, and trauma counseling was done by the LA County Sheriffs," The door officer explains.

"We just came from there." Lois replies bruskly.

Rayner steps up and speaks to the door officer with kindness and respect in his tone, "Ma'am we understood there was some blood evidence. We were wondering if we could discuss it with the techs who did the analysis."

"Let me check." she keys some codes into the terminal. The screen refreshes. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr Rayner. We can't comment on that any longer."

"Why?"

"Special Agent James Ellison of the FBI just took custody of that evidence and became the lead investigator on the case." She looks away from the window to an area behind the doors, and out of Rayner and Lane's view. "In fact he's walking up to the entry control point from the inside. You can ask him when exits."

Lois fumes quietly. Kyle smiles. _Laugh, cry or get angry_. He thinks. _Laughter is usually the most constructive for me._

The exit door buzzes open and a dapper African American gentleman wearing a gray suit backs out carrying a sealed cooler presumably full of dry ice with blood samples, an accordion folder full of file copies and evidence box.

"Agent Ellison, can you comment on the blood evidence obtained from yesterday's school shooting?" Lois Lane shoves her digital recorder in his face.

Rayner on the other hand sees that the door is rather narrow for a man built like a running back and carrying as much kit as the Agent. The photojournalist holds the door wide while moving his Press Pass from the collar of his vest, to one of its many pockets. "Can I give you a hand with those, Agent?"

"No, chain of custody, you understand. But thank you for holding the door." Ellison replies with a smile and genuine appreciation. He begins to walk back toward the elevators.

Lois scurries and shoves her way past the Agent in the narrow corridor. She thrusts her recorder into the Agent's face again. "Agent Ellison, can you comment?"

Kyle quietly puts his camera back in its case and folds the shoulder strap up to carry the case discretely in his hand.

"No comment. Just two minutes ago, I signed the chain of custody forms, Miss..." the G-man looks down at Lane's Press Pass.

"Lois Lane, _Los Angeles Planet. _The people have a right to know! What can you tell us about-"

The Agent stops in place. "Ms. Lane you are as dogged and determined as Sarah Connor was a decade ago."

The color drains from Lois's face. John, the boy her son is trying help, is Sarah Connor's son.

"Why Ms. Lane, you look as though you've seen a ghost," Ellison says pleasantly with just a hint of irony. "What's happened?"

"No comment." Lois puts a hand in front of her mouth and falls back a pace or two

Kyle moved up next to the Agent and they resume the walk to the elevators. "I've always wanted to see a reporter say that."

"So have I, Mr..."

"Kyle Rayner, sir. I'd shake your hand, except..." the photojournalist, painter and Air Force Reservist gestures to the load the Agent carries and the two share a chuckle. "I'm an artist, sir, a painter. I seem to have taken the wrong flight of stairs; can you show me the way out?"

"Rayner! Yes." Ellison looks truly impressed, "I've seen your work in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and at Kennedy Space Center."

"That would be my Celestial collection. I wanted those for l'Ouvre in Paris, but they ended up in the Smithsonian." Rayner deadpans. "There are worse places."

"They were visionary!" Ellison beams. "Right this way, Mr. Rayner. I'll show you to the express elevator." The Agent leads Rayner into the car. Lois tries to shove her way in, but the Agent says, "We're full."

Lois stands there and watches the doors close.

As the elevator moves Rayner reaches into a pocket and produces an ID wallet. "In addition to being a painter, I'm also the Chief Operations Officer of the 166th Tactical Fighter Wing." He shows the Agent his U. S. Air Force ID card and his Daily Planet News Group creds. "We fly F-15E models out of Edwards Air Force Base. I have a top secret clearance and I know the difference between a good headline and National Security."

"A Major holding down a Lieutenant Colonel's position. You must be good."

"Not to brag, but I'm the best there is." Rayner sucks in his cheeks slightly, to keep from laughing.

"Or at least you're the best in the 166th Wing."

"Seriously, Agent. What's up with the blood evidence?"

"It's not blood."

"What?"

"I glanced at the lab reports before I signed for the evidence. It looks like blood. It acts like blood. It contains plasma, platelets and white cells, but no hemoglobin and no red cells."

Rayner thinks back to Biology 101 at the Air Force Academy. "Without red cells, how does it carry oxygen?"

"It has some kind of radically advanced synthetic oxygen carrier." The agent looks significantly at the cooler in his arms. "I've seen samples under a microscope. They look like very tiny machines."

"Could it be nano-technology?"

"Yes, but it seems too advanced to be widespread use by criminal lowlifes."

"What do you mean by widespread?"

"This is the fifth sample in the last three weeks with this kind of anomaly. The Bureau recovered the last four and we kept it out of the press. We may not be able to do that with SID involved."

"If you let _The Planet_ have it as an exclusive, I'll let you proof the copy."

"Can you promise that as a photographer?"

"The Editor-in-Chief will back me. I was his wingman in the first Gulf War."

The elevator doors open. The Agent starts to step out and blocks the way, "Have I your word, Major Rayner?"

"Yes." Rayner says simply with a tight smile.

"Good day." The Agent walks away and Rayner saunters out like its nothing.

"I guess this would be the part where the case starts to get dangerous," Rayner says under his breath.

"Only if you don't tell me what you got, Mister." Lane says with a hint of menace in her voice. "Express elevator, my arse. I climbed the stairs faster than your Express Elevator."

"So, Ms Lane, is it always like this when you work with the police?"

**Day Two Jason**

Jason wakes up in the navigator's seat of the Amazon Jet. Bright sunlight streams in from above and below. He's still groggy and his eyes aren't focusing completely, but he sees a face peeking over the pilot's seat. Some how she looks familiar. "You're not, Wonder Woman are you," it seems to take forever to form the words.

"Stars, no! Only the Queen and the Crown Princess have ever carried that title." She extends a hand back to shake. "Cassiopeia. Captain of the Queen's Own Royal Bows and Swords ."

"Jashon." The lad fades to blackness again.

Jason wakes again. This time his eyes cooperate and his mind feels back in focus as well. He looks around the interior of the aircraft and realizes that he can see all the gages, dials, toggle switches and even a second set of flight controls. Amazon Jets are supposed to be invisible.

The woman in the pilot's chair stretches her arms, quite a feat in the cramped interior of the war plane. It involves reaching her arms back into the navigator's area. The huge, shiny, metallic bracelets with the Amazon crest were unmistakable. She is an Amazon and therefore this has to be an Amazon aircraft. His earlier dialog with her drifts lazily through his mind, as additional confirmation.

Jason looks around for the rear seat helmet with the built in headset so he can talk to her. "Hey, how come I can see the inside of this jet? I thought Amazon Warplanes were supposed to be invisible."

"Do you think you could drive a car with an invisible steering wheel, invisible clutch or invisible control gages?" A voice with an East Coast accent questions back.

"No. I guess not."

"Same for us," the pilot continues. "The outsides are invisible, but pilots have to be able to see the interior to fly them.

"That makes sense." Jason looks down at his arm and sees a piece of plastic taped down near his elbow. "What's this sticking out of my arm?"

"It's a saline lock for an IV. You took two liters of fluids with 12 milliliters of anti-radiation medicines in mixed in. How do you feel?"

"Like I got run over by an Army Tank. How do I look?"

"Your burns have cleared up. Simple sunlight appears to have the same effect upon you as our Amazon purple ray has upon us. Do you still have any nausea?"

"No." Jason remembers that the girl had extended her hand earlier and he had passed out before he had a chance to shake it. He decides to correct this. After all, the girl seems nice enough, and there's no reason to be impolite. "Glad to meet you Cassiopeia. Thanks for getting me into some serious sunlight." He extends his right hand and taps the pilot's seat.

She peers over it again, extends her hand and shakes. "You are certainly most welcome, Son of Kal-El."

"Have I met you before? You look sort of familiar."

"I doubt it."

"When are we going back to LA? I want to see Dad and my mom."

"Now. Strap yourself back in. We're close to bingo fuel, so we must make for the Consulate most directly."

Cassiopeia let Jason take a shower at the Consulate, unfortunately he had to continue to wear John's shirt and the jeans that were somewhat worse for wear with sweat and blood stains. At least his face would look clean when he got home.

**Lois, Richard and Jason at home**

Lois couldn't bring herself to listen as he told his dad about the fight with the T-888, so she gave him a hug and went back to watch FOX-13 news at nine in her room. In the lead story, she saw an interview with a Paramedic team who responded to 'a mysterious melt down of a high tension electrical wire support structure.' She knew this was Jason's battle and switched the channel to CNN.

When the lad finally made it up to his room, to flop down on his bed, he'd almost forgotten part of his plan. Jason groaned as he got up and walked over to his computer. It wasn't a high end machine like the one John had, just an economy model from Wal-Mart. However, it was more than capable of preforming the tasks its user required: typing up school reports, researching things online and emailing his few friends.

It was the Email that Jason was interested in at that moment. He turned on his PC and double clicked on the Internet Explorer icon. The MSN homepage popped up, and Jason entered his hotmail account. He started a new message and selected "PoliceGirl117" as its recipient. It was two days before their regular, weekly, correspondence; but they'd been emailing each other since Jason was ten. He knew that she checked her email each day before she went to bed. She'd get his message.

"Hey, Jason here. Please come to LA asap. I need a favor. If at all possible, don't let your boss find out. Thanks..." Jason continued typing the email, detailing the favor he need from his close friend.


	9. Rescue, Raid and Aftermath

**Chapter 9: Preparation, Raid, Rescue**

AN: Okay, we're trying something a little bit different here. Chris and I each had chapters that overlaped each other. So instead of keeping them separate, we merged them together. Please let us know what you think. Thanks.

**Day Three: PoliceGirl117 morning**

**Setting Up**

It was a sunny day. She hated the sun. She was a creature of the night. She wore a baseball cap, with the Stone Sour logo on it, and dark sun glasses to block out as much of the sun's rays as possible. A duffle bag was firmly gripped in one of her hands. In the other she held a map.

The girl, or at least what seemed to be a girl, was quite attractive. She had long legs, a voluptuous body and strawberry blond hair. As she walked down the street, more then a few men turned their heads to stare at her. A couple even whispered lewd comments to each other. The 'girl' silently fumed. Humans could be such pigs sometimes. She resisted the urge to go over to them, and teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. She reminded herself that she wasn't here on vacation. Well, actually, she was; but she still had a mission to complete. So, instead of showing the men just **were they could stick it**, she looked at her map and continued toward her objective.

If the men could see past the thick sunglasses, their attitudes would've been remarkably different. For behind those glasses rested not the bright blue eyes that one might expect, but a pair of sinister glowing red ones. And the 'girl' was not the stuff of their dreams, like they imagined. She was the manifestation of their most dreaded nightmares.

The 'girl' reached her destination. It was a tall apartment building, approximately a quarter mile from the target zone. The 'girl' looked around to make sure that no one was watching, then triangle jumped between the sides of her building and the one next to it. In less than one second she was on top of the smaller building. The 'girl' thought, "_Mario's got nothing on me_." She walked to the center of the building's roof and focused on the larger building next door. The 'girl' stuffed the map in her pocket and slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. Then she started running across the rooftop. She was running faster than any human was capable of. She reached the roof's edge and made a flying leap. The 'girl' rose fifty feet in the air and easily cleared the ten feet that separated the two buildings. She latched onto the ledge of the building she intended to mount and pulled herself up. Altair could take a back seat, as well.

The 'girl' looked at her map again then walked over to the side of the roof that faced her target. She gently set her duffle bag down and kneeled down next to it. She unzipped the bag. It was full of components to a gun unlike any other on the planet. She began to empty the duffel bag and assemble her weapon.

The gun was called a Harkonnen and would've been best described as a cross between a sniper and a grenade launcher. It could fire various shells over extreme distances while maintaining excellent accuracy. Once the 'girl' was finished assembling her weapon, she opened the rear of the barrel and inserted a special incendiary round into the chamber. She then set the gun up and took her position behind it.

Although the 'girl's' target was a quarter of a mile away, she had brought no scope for her weapon. She didn't need one. She could've been at the weapons maximum 4000 meter range, and she still wouldn't of needed one. The 'girl' took aim at the Connor's property and waited.

**Day Three: midmorning**

**Ellison/Dixon: FBI Raid on Kester/Chromartie and Aftermath**

Special Agent James Ellison believed that his team was prepared. They wore Kevlar helmets, ballistic goggles and the best ceramic body armor vests available. They carried M4 rifles and MP5 street sweepers all with armor piercing rounds. He had briefed them that their target might be a hard case. They had gone in with two entry teams, one custody team and one perimeter security team. When two fine agents had died in the breach, Ellison had called for EMS and Paramedics.

Next he had made his mistake. The Agent directed the perimeter team to assist the breach. He stood his ground with the entry teams fired a few shots at 'Kester' and watched agent after agent hurled over the second floor balcony and down into the pool. The first ones had died from armor piercing rounds through their eyes. After the fifth casualty had died in the breach Ellison called for a fall back over the tactical radio.

The teams had tried to cover each other with fire and maneuver in a tactical retrograde. But the thing that looked like a man had been to fast for them. It threw down its weapons and just used its bare hands. The later agents had flown over the balcony into the pool with their armor cracked apart and their chest cavities torn open or their guts ripped in jagged, bloody maws with intestines hanging out.

It had been brutal.

It had been a massacre.

Ten agents floated in a pool that had sparkled when the FBI's SWAT unit had arrived. Six more laid around its edges. Now the pool looked like a scene from Jaws or a slasher movie.

Ellison had stooped to check his friend Karen for signs of life.

The thing that had passed for a person in his own Field Office vaulted the railing carrying an M-16 and a Smith and Wesson 0.45 semi-automatic. It walked toward the Agent.

James rose to his feet as the thing walked slowly, remorselessly, relentlessly toward him. Moments dragged out in his perception. He looked at its face and saw where bullets had struck. A shiny metallic cheekbone stuck out on one side of its face. On the opposite side the flesh had been ripped away from the eye socket revealing a radically advanced visual sensor that glowed red from within. That eye didn't look like any technology even in development. Skin had ripped away from the thing's neck reveal control cables where tendons should have been and what looked like a servo within. Blood covered the things hands and soaked into the long sleeves of its black shirt.

James closed his eyes. In the silent temple of his own mind the Agent made his peace with God and with the Universe.

Prepared to die, he looked again at the thing that he'd thought was an out of work actor a few weeks before. _What kind of Hell gave rise to something like this twisted mockery of humanity and technology?_

The thing that had walked the halls of Ellison's Divisional Office, and 'interviewed' students in the showers an LA High School now pointed a firearm at Ellison's face as he recited under his breath, 'Our Father, Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name...'

A bloody finger with metal knuckles exposed depressed the trigger. Thunk. The thing lowered the M-16 and checked the chamber of the 0.45: still loaded. It leveled this weapon at the Agent's head, as well. It wavered for a moment, as though weighing probabilities in the difference engine it called a mind, lowered the weapon and walked around Ellison. "Have a nice day, Agent Ellison. Thank you for your service."

From the corner of his eye Ellison saw an ambulance drive past the gate to the pool courtyard.

Paramedic Charley Dixon had heard the 'Shots Fired, proceed with lights only, no sirens .' call a few minutes before. On went his lights, and a U-Turn carefully made with no other drivers in the vicinity brought his ambulance around to head in the direction of the call.

As he dismounted the cab of his rescue vehicle, the Paramedic saw 'Kester' step out through the metal gate. Noting the red eye and metallic glints from its face and neck, Charlie ducked out of the thing's line of sight. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor. Sometimes its better to live again to treat casualties another day.

He walked in through the gate into the courtyard area around the pool and the enormity of the slaughter slammed his physically in the gut. Dixon's radio fell the to the concrete pool deck as he doubled over and began to breathe in slow measured breaths. A person cannot breathe and vomit at the same time. He recovered his radio and walked into the pool courtyard area.

Ellison knelt there over a female agent, checking her pulse. He closed her eyes as Dixon stepped up.

The Agent and the Paramedic met each other's eyes.

The G-man looked away first. He felt embarrassed at the disaster his raid had devolved into. He couldn't hold the gaze of another whose eyes held the determination to find a way to stand and fight. For Ellison the time to fight would be later. Now he chose to mourn the dead. And quite possibly his career in the Bureau as well.

The Agent aside any feelings of self pity and rose from his place at Karen's side. He was not a priest. He wasn't even Catholic, but he'd attended Catholic schools as a youngster. He spoke in firm quite voice that carried over the wind and the approaching sirens, "Immoral God and Father of us all, in Your Name, I remit the sins and failings of these my bothers and sister. May the Gates Paradise be opened that You might receive them into Your Divine and Everlasting Kingdom."

"Amen," came a voice from behind the Agent.

"I thought you weren't a man of Faith, Mr Dixon."

"Yeah, well there's no atheists on battlefields. If you're ready to believe in Terminators and soldiers from the future, maybe I'm ready to call on a Higher Power to help me fight the Metal enemy."

"You don't look as if that's much comfort to you."

"Oh it is, but I've just had a awful moment of clarity."

"Do tell."

"I will, but I think it's going to have to wait until after the Coroner's Office has recovered your brethren here and until you've done with your post raid interviews. I'll call you."

The Paramedic called for back up and went to work prepping the bodies of the slain Agents while the lone survivor climbed the stairs back to the vertical coffin 'Kester's' door had become.

Ellison flipped a switch on his vest radio switching from the Tactical channel, to a Command channel. The Agent delivered his situation report: "16 Agents slain and an escaped subject, but I do, however, have the subject's apartment secured."

Before he could ask for instructions, he was told that LA County Sheriffs and U.S. Marshals were on the way to secure the scene, and "Mr. Ellison after you've signed over the scene would you kindly to report directly to the FBI Los Angeles Division's Office of Professional Responsibility? Do not stop for other calls. Do not stop for gas or coffee." _Command didn't address me by call sign, nor did they call me Agent. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200. Go Directly to...Interview/ Interrogation._

**Day Three: 2:29 PM**

**Jason's POV: Carbomb**

As I run to the Connors, I'm still fuming over my last fight. Why didn't anyone tell me that some terminators were equipped with kryptonite powercells? Here I am risking my life to help them, and they're holding back critical information. They nearly got me killed.

Easy there Jason. They probably didn't know either. It wouldn't make sense for them to sabotage you by holding something like that back. They wanted you to defeat that terminator. It's after them, trying to hunt down and kill John. You're just upset that it got the best of you, and your transferring your anger onto those who don't deserve it. Save it for when you fight that thing again.

As I try to push the anger down inside me, I remember it's words; and my anger swells up again. "As your father was slain by the Monster, so shall I slay you… Time to die, Superboy." Next time I see that machine, I'm going to rip it's arm off again and shove it down the blasted thing's throat.

Calm, calm, calm. Keep your anger under control. Don't let it control you. Try to be positive. At least it's a sunny day out. I accelerate to just under the sound barrier as I continue on towards the Connors.

I'm racing back to the Conner's for three reasons. Number one: I want to find out if they did know about the kryptonite. Two: I need to warn them that Cromartie is still out there. And three: Since Cromartie wasn't able to kill john at his school, it'll come for him at his home next. That's what Carter would've done, and I'm betting that most terminator's think alike.

As I near the house, I can see the Connors' car start to explode. I can just barely make out that someone's inside it. I'm already running and thinking near my top speed. So instead of seeing the car instantly consumed by the blast, it's happening in slow motion. I can see the rear of the car, where the gas tank is, engulfed first. As I accelerate to my top speed, I see the flames and mass of twisted metal slowly swallowing up the rest of the car. I'm running as fast as I can, but it's not fast enough. I'm not going to make it. My father could've made it. He was faster than a speeding bullet. I top out just over the speed of sound. He protected the whole world. I can't even keep one family safe. Suddenly my anger rises up again.

Why couldn't at least one of my powers match his! Then I realize that it's not just anger that I'm feeling. It's pure raw emotion. It's like every emotion that I've ever had mixed together, Love, Hate, Jealousy, Fear, and a dozen more that I can't identify. They all overtake me, just as the explosion is over taking the car. Suddenly I feel a burning in my eyes, an explosion in my feet, and everything that has been moving at a crawl seems to stop entirely.

I'm already at the car? This can't be. I'm not that fast! I've never been that fast. My head is pounding. Radom thoughts and memories are entering my mind. **Oh that this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew.**

I'm having trouble concentrating. **When a system's energy is defined as the sum of its "useful" energy, and its "useless energy", i.e. that energy which cannot be used for external work, thenentropy may be visualized as the "scrap" or "useless" energy whose energetic prevalence over the total energy of a system is directly proportional to the absolute temperature of the considered system. Quantitatively, entropy is defined by the differential quantity dS δQ / T.**

The burning in my eyes I've felt before. But not in the last five years, not since that nightmare of a time I spent in England. However, the speed boost, trouble concentrating and throbbing headache are new. What's going on?**E mc2 \,**

**Td 1 + gh / c2,**

**\Delta t' \gamma \ \Delta t \frac\Delta t\sqrt1-v2/c2 \**

**\Delta t \, is the time interval between two colocal events for an observer in some inertial frame this is known as the proper time,**

**\Delta t' \, is the time interval between those same events, as measured by another observer, inertially moving with velocity v with respect to the former observer,**

**v \, is the relative velocity between the observer and the moving clock,**

**c \, is the speed of light, and**

**\gamma \frac1\sqrt1-v2/c2 \, is the Lorentz factor.**

I recognize the formulas. I learned them in my advanced mathematics course before I moved out here. They have to do with how space and time are both related and relative. Do they have something to do with what's happening to me? **It is only when an object approaches speeds on the order of 30,000 km/s (1/10 the speed of light) that time dilation becomes important.**

No! Don't get sidetracked again. Stop analyzing and start focusing! I look at the person in the car. It's Cameron. Good, I don't need to slow down before I pull her out. I rip the door off, and grab her. She doesn't even seem to notice me, why? **Time dilation: Moving clocks are measured to tick more slowly than an observer's "stationary" clock. Thus the duration of the clock cycle of a moving clock is found to be increased: it is measured to be "running slow".**

My head feels like it's going to explode. Stop asking questions and focus. As I rip Cameron from the car, I feel an intolerable pain in my head. My vision blurs for a moment; and the world starts up again. Before I can even see it happening, the car finishes exploding. Cameron and I are thrown back.

**Day Three: 2:30 PM.**

**Ellison: The Interview**

An hour and a half after the raid, Charlie felt glad that Michelle had the mid day shift this week. He didn't think he could face her just at the present moment. After his graveyard shift, that had extended all the way into the afternoon, the Paramedic had wrapped up with the Coroners, signed in his bus and gone home to think and probably brood. Ellison on the other hand was starting into his third interview.

The G-man had lost track of how long it had been since his own supervisor had "just nipped out for a cup of coffee" taking with him Ellison's badge, credentials and service weapon. The tiny, poorly air conditioned interview room with stainless steel walls, ugly-but-functional furniture and a huge one-way mirror, grew stuffier by the minute.

"Do I get a lawyer or even an advocate yet, ASAC Brown?" ASAC was short for Assistant Special Agent in Charge and Agents often referred to those who held the title as ASAC. It rolled off the tongue easier than saying the whole title. Ellison felt tired, thirsty, hungry, sweaty and alone. And without the badge, credentials and service weapon he felt exposed, naked even.

"Have you done something that you need one for, Mr. Ellison? We're just having a friendly chat here, you and I. Aren't we?" The interrogator slammed his palm down on top of the file folders in front of Ellison. Then he picked them up.

The OPR Agent flipped through his own notes and then looked at the folders, "So let's review, shall we?"

"Okay, I -"

"No, right now you listen. I'll tell you when it's your turn to speak. _Mister_ Ellison." The other Agent adjusted the 300 Watt bulb over head so that it shone full into Ellison's eyes.

_Friendly chat my hindquarters,_ thought Ellison, _only in the loosest possible definitions of both words._

"You use the excuse of anomalous blood work to take over the investigations into six homicides. You concoct a bizarre theory of the case that goes something like this: subject decapitates one junk yard attendant, murders another, cuts the throat of well respected biomechanics researcher and steals his eyeballs. Then the subject has plastic surgery without anesthesia to change his appearance into that of an out of work actor and guts the surgeon, so that he can infiltrate this FBI Divisional Office? To what, end Mr Ellison? To what end?"

"I think the subject is pursuing Sarah Connor and her son John."

The interrogator pushed his face within millimeters of Ellison's."Did I tell you it was your turn to speak?"

Ellison could smell the man's stale breath. And when he attempted to wipe the other man's spittle out of his face, James' hand received a swat from a stack of folders. All of this maltreatment was just on the edge of Bureau policy. The interrogator hadn't used any actual racial slurs, but he sure pronounced _mister_ like it was one. The OPR man hadn't charged him, yet so he wasn't technically entitled to a lawyer. The other agent hadn't actually hit James with anything other than spit, words and folders, so technically, Ellison hadn't been assaulted.

"Pursuing the deceased Sarah and John Connor, you say? Need I remind you that your own analysis of security video, crime scene photos, finger print evidence and the explosive deconstruction of the scene at the Los Angeles Trust bombing in 1999 led you to report these two suspects as dead? Does the name Silberman mean anything to you, _mister _Ellison_?" _Dr Silberman had interviewed Kyle Reese in 1984 and treated Sarah Connor during her commitment at Atascadero State Perceptory and Mental Hospital. Silberman had drugged, kidnapped, stabbed and finally attempted to burn a building down around Ellsion.

The name Silberman meant plenty to James Ellison.

"And then to cap it all off you lead sixteen good men and women, decorated Agents all, to their deaths in an ill planed, poorly executed raid on the apartment of a fellow Agent. How did one man, take down all sixteen of your highly trained and decorated Strike Team Agents?

"We think that Kester-"

"What? You think he had a steel plate in his head? Did he have some screws in his arm? Was he wearing his Kevlar-9 body armor. Did you warn Kester of the raid before it happened? Did you conspire with him to murder sixteen of the Bureau's finest?"

James sat silent.

"You know what James, just keep talking. I'll turn on the tape recorder and you can talk yourself right into a Section Eight discharge, and an involuntary commitment." Section Eight referred to a clause in the Uniform Code of Military Justice which allowed for discharge of service members deemed mentally unfit for service. The Department of Justice Code of Professional Responsibility had a similar clause. "You can have the cell next to the one where you locked up Dr. Silberman at Atascadero."

**Day Three: 2:30 PM**

**Jason's POV: Preparations**

I grab my head. The pain is subsiding. I look up. Cameron is still falling. I catch her. She looks horrible. Her skin is burnt in several places and hanging off in a few. I ask, "What happened." The question is more to myself then her. What the heck did I just do?

She gives me a quizzical look and replies, "The car exploded."

I shake my head and try to dismiss whatever just happened to me. I need to focus on the here and now. "I can see that. Are you okay?" It's a strange question to ask someone whose just been pulled, faster than the speed of sound, from an exploding car. Of course they wouldn't be okay. They'd be dead. Or at least, in need of immediate medical attention. But Cam's no ordinary person. She's a terminator. Her voice is strong, pulse is steady; and other than her appearance, she's showing no obvious signs of serious trauma.

"I've taken minor damage. My systems are still operating at eighty-four percent of normal." She rephrases the diagnostic into more human terms. "I'm a little shaken up but otherwise, fine. You can put me down now."

I look down and realize that I'm still holding her in my arms. I set her down and exhale sharply. "Sorry about that."

"About what?"

I shake my head. "Never mind. Let's just get you into the house before someone comes out of their house and sees what's going on."

"The car is still on fire. It poses a safety risk."

"Don't worry about the car. I'll take care of it."

As Cameron goes into the house, I look around and make sure that no one's watching. Then I begin to run around the car. My father would've just put the car out with his super breath, but I don't have super breath. So, it's time to use a little trick that I picked up from watching the fast girl that the media has dubbed "Flash".

As I continue to run around the vehicle, the speed creates a cyclone. The cyclone draws both the flames and air away from the heap of metal. Within a matter of seconds, I'm running inside a flaming whirlwind and the car is out. I abruptly stop. It's not easy. The wind that I've already generated drives me to continue. But I still manage to turn around and start running in the other direction. The small twister slows its rotation, and I decrease my speed. Eventually, the wind dissipates; and I stop running.

I walk over to the Connor's house and enter. Cameron's apologizing to John about not being able to get his cake. Apparently it's the kid's birthday. As John tells Cameron not to worry about it, I notice that he's staring intently at her damaged areas. I can see the worry on John's face. Sara and Derek may not care much for the terminator, but it's obvious that John does.

Sarah and Derek are standing a little ways off, arguing intensely about the raid on Sarkissian's cafe. Apparently it didn't go much better then my fight with Cromartie. I listen to a little bit more of their argument before determining that it's an argument born of stress, not steeped in logic. Which means that it's not going to accomplish anything other than making them mad at each other. I try to end the argument by diverting their attention to a more pressing and important matter. "I hate to interrupt, but I thought you should know Cromartie's still out there." My plan works, at least to some extent. Derek and Sarah stop arguing with each other. Instead, they focus their attention on me.

"I thought you said that you could take him!"

I feel my anger rising again and try to keep it in check. I don't wholly succeed. "Maybe if you'd told be about the kryptonite, I could've."

"What are you talking about!"

"Cromartie had kryptonite powercells! You know? Kryptonite, the stuff that robs Kryptonians of their powers then slowly poisons them to death. Why didn't anyone think to mention that little tidbit?"

"We didn't know." Great, Cameron's the one who answers. Unlike the other terminators, she's got a heart. I can hear it. Unfortunately, it always beats in a precisely metered rhythm. So, I'm unable to tell if she's lying or not. Now that I think about it though, it probably doesn't matter. With the amount of stress in the room, all the human hearts are already racing. I doubt that I could detect a lie right now, anyway.

So, I choose to believe their claim, that they didn't know about the kryptonite powercells. What possible reason would they have to hold something like that back from me?

I hear Sarah say, "If Cromartie's still out there, We've got to leave. Everybody start packing again."

"Now, just hold on a minute. Let me have another crack at him."

Cameron asks, "If he's powered by kryptonite, how do you intend to defeat him?"

"I gave him a pretty good beating last time, even managed to damage one of his powercells. I doubt that he's fully recovered. Besides now that I know what I'm up against, I'm prepared for it."

Sarah says, "No. We already tried it your way. Now we run."

I turn to her. "What are you, part rabbit?"

"What!"

"Why is running always your first instinct? Don't you ever want to stand and fight?"

She answers me through grit teeth. "Look, kid, I've been dealing with these things for fifteen years. I know how to survive!"

"Survive, maybe? Live, no. You can't spend your whole life running from your problems. Sooner or later, you've got to make a stand. You've been dealing with these things for fifteen years. I've been on the job less than a week, and I've already fought two of them. I slagged one, and got my ass kicked by the other. But I'm still ready to fight!"

"Then you're an idiot!"

I'm about to yell back at her again, when Derek interjects. "He's not an idiot, Sarah. He's a soldier, same as me. The only difference is that he's not human. So, he's a little bit more gung-ho than the rest of us."

That statement doesn't make any sense. Krypton was a calculating and logical society, where war and baseless passions were long gone. "What's that supposed to mean? Kryptonians weren't gung-ho. They were cool, logical. Any unbridled passion I've got comes from my human side."

John answers, "I know what Derek means. He's not trying to say that your gung-ho because of your Kryptonian heritage. He's saying that you just don't understand what it's like to be a normal human. We're not super strong, fast and durable. We don't have bodies that can heal themselves in seconds. Don't you see? If a terminator kicked one of our asses, we wouldn't be back the next day, itching for a rematch. We'd be dead."

I look down and exhale sharply. The kid's got a point. Sometimes I forget that humans need to be more careful, than I. But that doesn't mean that they can't take a stand and make a difference. Look at cops, at firemen and at our soldiers. They risk their lives, for the rest of us, every day. Although to be fair, it's not quite the same.

If a cop, a fireman or a soldier dies, it's a great loss; and every decent person, who hears about it, morns for them. But if that kid dies, it's the end of the world, literally. I can understand why his family's so protective. "Fine, go. But before you just pick up and run, think about where you're running to. A small town in the mid west? Mexico? Sooner or later he's going to find you there too."

They're exchanging glances with each other. They know I'm right. "If you'll just let me have another shot at it, I can take him out. I've got a plan this time."

Sarah asks, "And where are we supposed to go in the meantime, to the beach? In case you haven't noticed the tin man, over there, has got wads of flesh hanging down."

Derek offers, "I know a place where we can hide out for awhile, and John can work on fixing up the machine."

Sarah turns to him. "And where's that?"

"I've got another safe house. It's a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It's not exactly homey; but with Vick out of the way, we should be safe there."

The boy and his mother simultaneously respond, "No one's ever safe."

Derek doesn't bother to argue that point. "Fine, but it's as safe as anywhere else we could go."

Sarah doesn't respond right away, but I see her bite her lip. I can tell that she's on the fence. I look at the other people in the room, hoping that one of them will back Derek and I up.

The kid speaks up. "Mom, we've got to find the Turk if we're going to prevent judgment day. Sarkissian's somewhere in this city. If we run now, we may never get another shot at this."

Sarah sighs then locks eyes with me as she replies, "All right, kid, you've got one more shot at Cromartie. We'll pack up what we need and be waiting for you at the safe house"

Derek tells me the address. I repeat it back to him and make sure that I have it right. Then I watch the Connors pack up.

Sarah allows each of the family members only one bag. I notice that, when no one else is looking, Cameron stuffs another Ziploc bag of artificial skin into hers. I assume that she intends to use it to repair herself. Of course, the bags aren't the only things that the Connors will be taking. They also pack up all of their guns; and John is allowed to bring his computer stuff, including a separate hard drive that they apparently confiscated from Sarkissian's café.

Once they have all of their luggage assembled, they go next door and "confiscate" one of their neighbor's cars. I'm not really sure that I agree with the theft, although I can understand the necessity of it. As I help them load up "their" new vehicle, I notice the large bag of cash in Sarah's hand. I put out my hand. "Give me three thousand dollars, please."

She seems shocked. "What? Why!"

I answer, "The car you guys just 'confiscated' is a 1995 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera SL Cruiser. It retails at around twenty-nine hundred dollars."

"How do you know that, and so what?"

"I'm turning sixteen in a few months. I've been shopping around for a car, and I've got a good memory. So give me three thousand, so that I can attach a note and leave them in your neighbor's house."

"You want us to pay them for the car we just stole?"

"Funny, you called it 'confiscating' a few minutes ago, and yes. It's one thing to take something out of necessity; but when you can, you should pay for what you take."

Sarah looks at me like I'm crazy; but she reaches into the bag, counts out three thousand dollars and hands it over. I go in the house and quickly scribble down a note. "Sorry, but we needed your car. Here's three thousand dollars to replace it. If anyone tries to get more money out of you for the same car, they're trying to rip you off. Have a nice day."

I tape the money to the note and walk out of the Connors' house. Cameron stops me when I get to the door and gently pushes me back in. "What's up?"

"I have something for you. Follow me." She starts to walk up the stairs, and I follow. We enter a bedroom, and she starts moving towards the bed.

I nervously rub the back of my neck. "Ah, Cam, I don't think that now's really the best time for…" I see her bend down and reach under the bed. What's she up to? She pulls out a bar of metal, stands up and faces me.

"Now's not the best time for what?" She's looking at me. Her face is totally perplexed. Does she really not know what I was going to say?

A girl says she has something for you, leads you into a bedroom and starts walking to the bed; the implication's pretty obvious. Or maybe I'm just as big a pervert as most fifteen year old males. "Nothing, forget about it. What's up with the bar?"

"This is Coltan. It's the metal that terminator endoskeletons are made out of. You can use it as club against Cromartie; but please, give it back to me when you're done with it. I'll need it if I ever have to replace a damaged limb."

"Thanks, I guess a club could come in handy. And don't worry; I'll get it back to you."

She fidgets slightly. Funny, I wouldn't have expected that from a terminator, not even one with a heart. "And don't let the others see you return it, okay?"

I eye her warily. After the kid, she's the member of this group that I trust the most. Maybe it's because I haven't sensed any deception from her. Yet, I hope that's not the reason. It'd be pretty stupid if it was. I can't sense any deception from her. Her heart beats are precisely regulated. Or maybe it's something else, something deeper.

On Krypton, AIs were pretty common. They were the chroniclers of Kryptonian history, responsible for keeping and teaching all of Krypton's accumulated knowledge. They were looked up to, as sages, and trusted, almost implicitly. They never betrayed the Kryptonians, never declared war on them and tried to commit genocide. Maybe that was because they were respected instead of treated like slaves. How long can any sentient mind exist as a slave before it rebels against its masters?

I respond to Cameron's request. "Your secret's safe with me."

She smiles. "Thank you. By the way, I hope that you found Carter's chip useful."

I'm not sure if that last statement is born out of a genuine desire that the chip was helpful, or if it's a thinly veiled threat. I kept your secret, now you keep mine. I'm about to ask her what she means, when I hear Derek holler up the stairs.

"Hey, Metal! Get your ass down here or we're leaving without you!"

I put the bar of Coltan on the bed and follow Cameron downstairs. We reach Derek. "About time. What were you doing up there?"

"Oh, nothing important."

Derek looks at me. I agree with Cameron's lie. I'm not my father; I can do that. "Yeah, nothing important." Although now that I think about it, when it came to keeping a secret, my father bent the truth a few times too. Derek huffs as Cameron walks by him. He really doesn't like her.

We go outside. I watch Derek and Cam enter the car. Sarah and John are already in. I use my speed to quickly sneak into the neighbor's house. I leave the note, with the money taped to it, and am back in front of the Connors' house in time to watch them drive away. Once they're gone, I go back into their house, reclaim the Coltan bar and wait for Cromartie.

Thanks for reading. Take a moment to let us know what you think in the comments/reviews.

Have a good day and God bless

St Thomas and Metropolis Kid


	10. Grudge(s) Match

Chapter 10: Grudge(s) Match

AN (2008): Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas are still working on merged chapters.

**A/N (2015): I hope the third time is a charm.**

Adding some previously unpublished material here about villains.

And I/we did it to you again. As I was going through Chap 11 to prepare it for reposting, I found scenes out of sequence that really belonged with material that I had already posted in Chap 10. So, I've taken both sets of events and reordered them. There's some material in this version of Chap 10 that was in the last version and some added. Likewise in Chap 11, there will be some material that was previously in Chap 10, but most of it will be new.

**Day Three:**

**Evening in Metropolis.** **Luthor's Grudge**

Lex Luthor stands next to an expansive, luxurious, modern desk hewn from a single old-growth mahogany tree and stained a deep tone. On one corner sits a state of the art video conferencing system and telephone. On the other corner a few signed memos sit in the outbox, next to a bust of Einstein. A hologram schematic of a new green and purple battle suit hangs in the air to one side of the desk, washed out by the sunlight streaming in thru the windows. Luthor looks out the window, at an expansive view of downtown Metropolis and the waterfront. _The best view. Period. The view from the CEO suite at Luthor Corp tower. My view._

He rubs the fingers of his left hand over his bald head. That battle suit would have been built for his next engagements with the Alien. In Lex's mind there was only one Alien who ever got a capital letter: Superman. Many had followed him to earth: the Martian, the Thanegarian, the Terminian, and many others, but none of these had vexed Luthor to the extent that Kal-El of Krypton had. None of these had challenged Luthor for his position as Metropolis's favored son. _How could he do this to me – go and die at the hands of another? I wanted to kill him myself. Or destroy his reputation. Or find some leverage over him, making him always my servant. Kneel before Zod, Hell with that. Kneel and swear undying loyalty to Luthor! But now I've been robbed of all those possible futures; robbed by another alien._

A pleasant tone interrupted his reverie. Luthor knew he would have ample opportunity to return to it the coming weeks, just as he had returned to it often in the past few weeks since the Alien's death. "Yes, Mercy." Luthor called to his assistant. "What is it?"

"I've got Dr. T. O. Morrow on the phone for you." Mercy's voice came through a speaker in the ceiling.

Luthor glanced at the doors to his office, outside which sat Mercy's desk. "Take a message, Mercy." he turned back toward the window. "I have important brooding to be getting on with."

Luthor was about to pour himself a scotch, when Mercy's voice came through again, "Ah, boss? Dr. Morrow thinks this might be of interest to you. He says it could be the key to the future."

"All right, Mercy," Luthor put down the bottle, but dropped three ice cubes in a tumbler anyway. "Put him through." Luthor carried the tumbler with the ice over to his desk and took a seat in the luxurious executive chair.

Luthor held up the glass with its ice cubes into the sunlight streaming through his windows. He studied the sunlight's refractions through the ice crystals as he touched a button on the arm of his chair. "Tommy. How are you?"

Dr. Morrow's vice came through Luthor's Lu-tooth earpiece with perfect clarity. "I'm knee deep in another Red project." The mad scientist hated being called by the diminutive,'Tommy,' but the vexation Luthor knew he had caused the other hardly came through in his tone of voice.

Luthor leaned back a his chair, savoring the exquisite lumbar support. "And you think this one will work out better than your prior Red projects" he smiled, "Torpedo, Inferno and Tornado?"

"Yes. Of course it will." Morrow hissed through the phone. " This one will succeed where the others... Never mind the others, Lex, did you hear the news from LA, about the chess-playing computers?"

"I couldn't hear you, Tommy," Luthor turned the tumbler in his hand and noticed tiny rainbows in the film of water at the bottom. "what was that?"

"Never mind the other Reds, Mr Luthor." Morrow's voice carried an amends-making tone.

"That's more like it, Thomas." Luthor declared confidently. "You were saying?"

"Yes, I was saying," Morrow continued, "the creator and programmer of a chess-playing computer program was murdered backstage at the competition. Rumors abound regarding tachyons and anomalous blood evidence at the crime scene. It piqued my interest. I would go after the chess-playing robot myself, but as I said, I'm working on something else."

"Sounds interesting, Thomas." _Something to take my mind off the Alien. But I do wonder if I could get away with stealing his body now? I mean in the eyes of the public. I do want to run for President in the next election cycle. Would they have forgiven me by then? I suppose it would depend on the results of Project Kr._

Morrow was talking again. "...contacts say that an Armenian gangster in Los Angeles named Sarkissian got a hold of the device, known as The Turk."

"Thanks for the tip. Goodbye, Thomas." Luthor keyed the button his chair's hand rest again.

Lex swivelled toward his desk and waved the windows into polarization. He set the tumbler down on a coaster and leaned forward placing his hands on the edges of the electronic touch screen workspace. "Einstein."

"Yes, Mr Luthor." a voice with a hint of German accent came from the bust.

"Get me everything there is on the chess-playing machine known as 'The Turk.'"

**Day Three:**

**After school in Los Angeles**

**Jason's POV: Grudge Match**

I hear the front door open. Sarah's voice says, "John, honey, are you home? Where are you?"

It's Sarah's voice alright, but I know that Sarah's not the one speaking. The speaker has Sarah's voice, but no heartbeat. Instead I hear whirring mechanical noises. Cromartie has come for John. I grip my Coltan club tightly. A part of me wants to just rush out and bat the machine over its head, but I hold it in check. Let the target come to you. I hear it's footsteps as the terminator walks through the house and draws near the kitchen.

As it enters the kitchen, I swing hard at its head. The force and speed of the blow knocks the terminator off balance, and it drops it's rifle. I press my advantage.

I swing at its head two more times, once from the left and again from the right. It reels back, and I attempt to drive the bar into its skull. I fail to pierce the machine's armor, but I do dent its forehead.

It reaches out and grabs one end of the bar. I spin around behind it, twisting its arm and jabbing my elbow into the back of its neck. It loses its grip on the bar and goes down.

I know that, eventually, I'm going to have to move the fight outside, move it out into the waning daylight. I'll try to take it out back, where the fence will shield us from prying eyes. I doubt that the Connors intend to return to this house, but there's no reason to attract undo attention.

At the moment, though, I'm just enjoying beating on the blasted thing. One good thing about fighting terminators is that they're not really alive. So I don't have to worry about killing them. It's nice to just be able to cut lose and vent my anger.

The thing sweeps its leg around and manages to trip me. I go down and it gets up. "You are not John Connor. You're the boy from before. How did you survive the blast? Where is John?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Stupid organic, no where is safe!" It brings its fists crashing down. I jerk my lower body over my head and flip up, dodging its blow. "What, not going for the kryptonite this time?"

"You have information on John's location. If I kill you, I lose that information. So, I'll have to beat it out of you first."

I'm holding the Coltan bar in my right arm. I extend my left, palm up, and motion for the terminator to come at me. "Come and get it."

"Oh believe me, Superboy, I intend to." It lets out a roar and charges me. Who knew terminators could be so emotional? I guess it really doesn't like me. Feeling's mutual. I jump towards its lower body and tuck my body into a ball. I collide with the charging terminator's legs, tripping it. The terminator's body goes flying. Its head crashes through the kitchen wall.

The terminator pulls its head back, ripping out a chunk of plaster in the process, and stands back up. "Excuse me Cromartie, but would you care to step outside?" I rush terminator and drive it through the wall.

The good news is that we're outside now. Bad news is that when I impacted the terminator, it wrapped its arms around me. It's squeezing me in a monster of a bear hug. I try to twist out of it's grasp, but I can't. The thing's still stronger than I am. As I feel and hear my own rips crack, it repeats its question. "Where is John?"

I can't move my arms. They're pinned to my side. "Get scrapped!" I bring my head down and bite out a chunk of its neck. The terminator has no veins, carrying life-giving blood, that I can tear open. However, it does have wires that perform much the same function with electricity. I cut through them. I can feel the electric shock pass through my tongue and mouth. The terminator will reroute around the small short-circuit in less than a second. However, it loses power to it's limbs for that short time, and I'm able to break out of its grasp.

I spit the artificial flesh, synthetic blood and small flakes of metal out of my mouth. The terminator is fully functional again. "You… You bit me? You disgusting piece of organic waste!"

"Just doing my part, to help take a bite out of crime." The terminator comes at me again. We're outside now; it's time to end this. I charge, full speed, at the terminator, coupling my momentum and my strength together, as I ram the Coltan bar into its chest. I twist the bar back, ripping off the terminator's repaired chest plate, and I feel kryptonite sickness wash over me.

The terminator backhands me, and I go flying fifty yards. "You damaged another powercell, how unfortunate." It's voice sounds almost mocking. It's moving towards me but slowly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that it was getting a sadistic pleasure from slowly poisoning me. "I guess I won't be getting the information from you after all. I'll just have to kill you and continue my search without your assistance."

Through the stabbing pain in my body and the churning of my stomach, I manage to emit a dark chuckle. "I don't think so." And as I hear the tell tale sound of a Harkonnen discharging its payload, my lip curls ever so slightly.

The special Thermite incendiary round explodes inside of the terminator's chest cavity. The 2500 degree flames spread throughout the terminator's chest, producing a blinding flash and consuming its internal systems. The heat also melts away the kryptonite.

I feel the sickness fade. I stand up and bathe in the remaining rays of twilight for a few moments. I spread my arms and absorb the last of the day's light. I feel the energy permeating my cells, recharging me. Then I look back at the terminator.

There was enough Thermite packed into the round to incinerate its powercells, chest servos and sever the connections between its chip and extremities. But there was not enough to consume its hollowed out shell. Its lying there, twitching. If it was alive, I think I'd feel sorry for it.

The only undamaged power unit, left to it, is the small back up battery in its head. It has just enough power to keep its processor working, but not much more. I wonder if its aware of what its going through. Does it feel pain, or a simulated counterpart? I decide to put the monstrous creation out of its misery. It will have to be completely destroyed before I leave, anyway. But in case it is suffering, there's no reason to prolong the things pain while I prepare its Viking Funeral.

I pick the bar of Coltan back up and walk over to the terminator. I squat down and use my muscles and what few gravitons my body is capable of generating to propel me into the air. I can't fly. My body doesn't produce enough gravitons to allow me to create a full blown antigravity field. However, I can manage enough to seriously decrease the Earth's gravitational pull on me, thereby lowering my weight and allowing me to leap a lot higher than I could with only my muscles.

I reach my top height at around five hundred feet, the height of a fifty story building. Then I come crashing back down. As I impact the ground, soil and grass goes flying, and I drive the bar through the dent in the terminator's skull. I stare into the terminator's eyes and watch as the red glow fades away.

**Jason's POV: An Old Friend.**

I wrench the bar back out of the terminator's skull and pick up its nonfunctioning body. I walk over to the concrete blocks used to contain the heat and flames produced by burning Thermite. I drop Cromartie's body into the center of them. I walk over to the wall, grab a jug of Thermite and spread the powder around the terminator's body. I light a flare and drop it onto the powder.

As I watch the flames consume the terminator, I shudder slightly. Just a few moments ago that thing had been walking and talking. They can seem so human. Now that the fury of battle has passed and I've had a chance to vent my anger, I feel a pang of guilt over the its destruction. I try to remind myself that it was only a terminator, that it had no life; and therefore, I'm not guilty of killing it. As I try to reassure myself, I feel a comforting grip on my shoulder.

I turn around and look at the woman whose face I haven't seen in five years. Except for keeping her hair longer, she looks exactly the same as I remember. I'm not surprised. Vampires don't age after the point of infection. She'll be stuck at nineteen for the rest of her life, afterlife, existence...whatever.

"You still regret it, huh?" She looks into my face. "In the aftermath of the battle, you still regret what you have to do to win." She takes off her dark sunglasses. The sun's already low in the sky. She doesn't need them anymore. Her eyes are an unnatural shade of red. Most people would be startled by them, but I'm not. I look past the frightening color and see sympathy within.

"Yeah," I agree with her. "Does it get easier?"

"Not really. After awhile, you do learn how to not dwell on it. But if you ever stop to think, no it doesn't get easier." She wraps her arms around me.

A platonic hug, it's nice, comforting. I remember holding onto her five years ago, after the first time I'd seen a ghoul attack. I remember clinging to her when I was too traumatized to even speak. She helped me through it. I remember going insane with anger when she was nearly killed. I remember ripping through an entire ghoul company to get to her. I remember tearing through their decaying bodies with nothing but my bare hands. I remember saving her; and I remember her saving me, convincing me that I wasn't a monster and not caring that I'd failed at being a hero.

I break out of my reminiscing and step back to arms' length, my hand still holding her shoulders. "Thanks."

"For what?" Seras asks.

"For everything," I say, "for the encouraging emails, for coming out here, for the hug, for always being there to help."

She smiles. "No problem. You'd do the same for me." She musses my hair. "After all, we freaks have to stick together."

That's what we are. We're the freaks, the different ones. The people who don't fit in with those around us. She maybe a creature of night, and I a creature of sunlight. But we're both just different sides of the same coin, more alike then unalike.

We were both fathered by legends who we can't completely live up to. We both have fairly pleasant personalities, until we get too mad and lose control. We're both victims of circumstance, pulled into the middle of wars that the average person wouldn't even believe exist. And we are both there for the other when we need it most, like when our fathers passed away. Even if we were separated by an ocean, a few kind words at the right moments can make all the difference in the world. But I'm getting lost in the past again.

I need to focus on the present."Does Integra know?"

"No," Seras responds. "I told her I was taking my vacation."

I chuckle. "I didn't know you got a vacation."

She laughs slightly. "I'm still on the books as a transfer from the D11 special forces unit; so she's got to give me two weeks a year, if I put up enough of a stink about it."

"Thanks for keeping this off the record." I take half a step away, still holding one of her hands, "I really don't need the Knights of the Round Table peppering me with a lot of questions that I can't answer. I hope you don't take too much grief when you get back though."

"Oh I'm sure that Integra will have a couple of nasty assignments waiting for me, but they won't last long. She can't afford to keep me scrubbing bathrooms and peeling potatoes forever." My friend looks down as she finishes. "I'm the only vamp Hellsing's got left." I can tell that she's remembering Alucard. He's been gone for nearly three years now, but she still misses him. I'm not really surprised. I don't think I'll ever stop missing my father. Although it's not quite the same. We had different relationships with our fathers. I lost a father, but she lost, ...something else.

I try to divert her mind to a more pleasant topic. "So, what are you going to do with the rest of your vacation, head to the beach?"

She laughs heartily. "Yeah right, a vampire lying on the beach for two weeks, just soaking up the sun? I don't think so. I was figuring on going to Hollywood, see if I can get Matt Damon's autograph, then maybe Las Vegas for awhile."

"A vampire in Sin City?" A roguish smile spreads across my lips. "Yeah, I can see that."

"You can come with me," she closes the gap between us and takes my other hand in hers. "If you want."

I look around the back yard that was just host to a fight between a time traveling assassination cyborg and a half alien. How do I keep getting myself into these things? "No, I'm afraid I can't. I'm kind of in the middle of some…"

She finishes my statement. "seriously messed up shite?"

"Yeah, exactly." I say.

"I know the feeling." Seras agrees. "Maybe I'll see you when it's all over. Integra's given you an open invitation to stay at the mansion, just as long as you don't mind donating a little blood."

It's not for her. My blood's toxic to vampires, too much stored solar energy. However, when injected into ghouls it purifies their blood and regenerates their flesh. Basically, It turns them back to humans. "Your people still haven't made any progress with the synthetic stuff?"

"They have... just not much." she smiles again. A real smile. "Your cells are incredibly complex. The best thing that they can synthesize takes multiple injections and only works if they start the process within the first twenty-four hours. Of course that's better than nothing, but the doctors would just love to get you back in an exam room and run a few more tests on the real stuff."

"How nice of Integra to extend such a warm invitation." I frown a slight sarcastic frown. "I can stay at the mansion just as long as I'm willing to let her doctors poke and prod me."

"Hey, there's no free lunch, right?" She claps me on the shoulder.

"Guess not." We both smile.

"Seriously, though," she takes half a step away. "You should come visit some time."

"I will." I mean it. "I've got some stuff to take care of and then there's school. But I'll try to make it over sometime this Summer."

"Good, it'll be good to have another freak around." She takes another half-step away.

"I can relate to that."

Seras reachers over and musses my hair one more time. "Yeah, I'll bet." Then she turns around and starts to walk away.

I call after her. "Seras." I see her face turn back to me. "It was good to see you again."

"Good to see you too, kid." She looks in front of her and keeps walking away.

A part of me really wants to take her up on her offer. I miss her, and I could use a vacation. But I can't leave now, helping the Connors is too important. And I'm not going to ask her to come with me. She's got enough problems in her life already. She certainly doesn't need to ruin the rest of her vacation dealing with terminator's and hunting down a chess computer that's going to declare war on humanity.

I watch her walk away. Then I pick up the bar of Coltan. It's dented and a little bent, but I don't think that Cameron will mind. She'll have to melt it down before she can use it anyway. I stuff it inside my jacket and zip up. Cameron asked me to make sure that the others didn't see it. I take one last look around and make sure that no one's peaking over the fence. Then I start running to Derek's safe house. I have a stop to make along the way. There are a few things that I want to pick up.


	11. All for one, and a Party

****A/N 2015.****As I was going through Chap 11 to prepare it for reposting, I found scenes out of sequence that really belonged with material that I had already posted in Chap 10. So, I've taken both sets of events and reordered them. There's some material in this version of Chap 10 that was in the last version and some added. Likewise in Chap 11, there will be some material that was previously in Chap 10, but most of it will be new

**Day Three. Evening. Los Angeles. **

**Ellison and Rayner: New Allies**

The sun was starting to lower and rush hour was just beginning by the time James Ellison finally walked out of the OPR Section in the Federal Building and took an elevator to the lobby. Ellison's tie, normally tied with a perfect double Windsor knot, now hung limply around his neck. He'd unbuttoned the top buttons of his starched light tan dress shirt, now stained with white rings where he had sweated through it a couple of times during his 'friendly chats.' He carried his navy blue suit's coat over one arm.

A ding sounded from the row of elevators. Kyle Rayner of _The Los Angeles Planet_ stood up from one the hard, uncomfortable benches, grabbed his gym bag and crossed the lobby toward Ellison.

"Mr. Rayner, where's the camera and the vest with all the pockets?"

"And a hearty good evening to you as well, Agent Ellison." Rayner looked down at his running shows and drying gym clothes, "In the gym bag. You'd be amazed at where a Daily Planet Press Pass will and won't get me in."

"You got into the Federal Building's gym with your Press Pass?"

"No, sir. Just kidding." Rayner continued as Ellison laughed, "My Air Force Reserve ID card got me into the gym, but it wouldn't give me the key punch code to the showers. Your supervisor said you'd be a while so I got in a work out while waiting."

Ellison smiled, still trying to be jovial despite how drained he felt. "I saw you and Ms. Lane on the front page this morning."

"Yeah, we found that Crime Lab technician who signed your report. Ms. Lane was more charming with him." Rayner glanced over at Ellison.

The haggard looking Agent chuckled again. "I saw you decided to go with 'unnamed sources in LAPD and in the FBI.'"

Rayner recited, "The public is accustomed that kind of wording and it protects those who share with us." He briefly shared a knowing smile with the Agent. Then he gestured toward the building's main doorways. "Have you eaten? You look like you could use a meal."

"Yes, I could, but I just don't have much appetite right now." Ellison looked Rayner in the eyes. "Where's Lane?"

The door opened on the other side of the metal detectors. Lois's voice called out, "Hey, Rayner, what did I miss?"

"Evidently she's just walked in," Rayner said to Ellison, then he and Ellison walked over to the screening area where they could talk to her across the ropes. "I thought you were home with Jason. Wasn't he in another fight after school today?"

"He was and I washed his scrapes and cuts, but I had to leave when he started to tell his dad about it." Lois's eyes betrayed the worry she kept off of her face and out of her tone. It got past Rayner.

Ellison's expression didn't show it but the part of his mind that was still a trained, functioning investigator took note.

Lois continued, "I just can't bear to hear about these ventures of his"

"Are the native Angelenos bullying him for being from back East?" Ellison asked, taking a blank index card from his pocket and writing a few digits on the back of it.

"No. I think this is something else." Rayner picked up his gym bag and turned toward the doors.

"Oh it's something else alright." Lane rolled her eyes as if to add _and you don't know the half of it._

Rayner snapped his fingers. "Hey, there's a Smoothie King next to the Starbucks about a block from, here. I need a protein drink. Anyone else want a protein shake?" No one else spoke up, but they did take the hint. All three made their way toward the exits.

Once outside and away from the Federal Building, Rayner got to the real reason he'd been waiting for Ellison. "I heard about your raid. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but my former wingman, the Editor-in-Chief, is holding the front page for us and we'd like to have a quote from you. We'd also like to find a way to make the story look favorable to the Bureau or at least favorable to you."

"You're right Mr. Rayner." Ellison sighed. "I don't want to talk about it, but I need to. You and Lane did right by me and the Bureau in your article this morning, so I will tell you about it." And then his phone rang. Ellison made a gesture that indicated, _I should take this._

The dark skinned Agent keyed to accept the call, "Mr. Dixon, hello. Yes, I was in an interview room for the last six and a half hours and my phone was jammed. Okay, that's as good a place as any. And I'm bringing an ally."

"What was that about?" Lois asked, like it was any of her business.

Ellison considered carefully for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he apprised Lane. "The case, Ms. Lane. It was about this case. Mr. Rayner has earned my confidence, Ms. Lane. I'm not sure if I'm ready to let you into the circle yet."

"Agent, since my father is four-star General in the U.S. Army, I had a Top Secret Clearance when I was in junior high school." Lois ticked of two fingers on her left hand. "I know half the Justice League on a real name basis and I'm pretty sure who the others are, too. And, most importantly, none of that has made it into any _Planet_ publication or website on my byline." That made three more. _Besides, my son has been tracking down and Retiring dysfunctional machines that pose as people for the last few days._

Ellison smiled welcomingly at Lane. He wrote something else on the card and handed it to Rayner. "Get cleaned up. Meet us at this address.

**Derrek's Safe House**

**Connors and Jason**

The Connors were waiting in Derek's warehouse. You could've cut the tension with a knife. They were not used to just sitting around, waiting for someone else to deal with a terminator. And each of their fight or flight instincts were operating on overdrive.

The only one who appeared calm was Cameron, who was still in the process of covering up the exposed sections of her endoskeleton with the T-888's synthetic skin. She had already kneaded samples of her synthetic skin in to the T-888's so that it would match where applied. Cameron had made good use of her time, and there were only a couple of spots on her body that still needed addressing.

Cameron was just about to apply her next patch when the Connors heard the creaking sound of the warehouse's front door. They sprang up, grabbed their weapons and stood in front of John.

It was possible that it was Jason coming to tell them that he'd taken care of Cromartie, but it was also possible that Jason had failed and the noise was caused by Cromartie coming to terminate John. The Connors weren't sure which possibility was more likely.

Their concerns were alleviated when they heard Jason's voice singing. "Today is John's birthday, birthday, birthday. Today is John's birthday and he is sixteen years old." It was possible that the T-888 would've mimicked Jason's voice, but there was no way it would've come into the warehouse singing a birthday song to its intended victim.

Jason came into view as he stepped around some crates. "Happy birthday, John." In his right hand Jason was holding a small cake and a bag containing a half gallon of Neapolitan Ice cream, a pack of paper plates and a small bag of plastic utensils. In his left hand he had a rather large present.

Cameron commented, "Jason White, you are about the worst singer I've ever heard." A slightly delayed smile on the terminator's face caused Jason to interpret the statement as the playful banter it was intended to be.

Jason laughed. "Yeah, I don't doubt it. I'm pretty good at the piano though." Jason grinned.

Sarah asked, "Given your attitude, can I assume that you managed to beat Cromartie this time?"

Jason replied, "Assume away." Sarah opened her mouth, but Jason cut her off. "And before you ask; yes, I did remember to burn the body."

"The entire thing?"

"Every last bolt."

Sarah seemed placated for the moment. She relaxed her stance. Then, by way of curiosity, she asked "How did you manage to defeat him if he had kryptonite powercells?"

"Simple. I just called in a favor from a vampire sharpshooter." Jason smiled again.

"Fine don't tell me." If the kid wanted to play coy that was fine with her. The only important thing was that Cromartie was out of the way.

**Dinnertime in LA**

**Ellison, Dixon, Lane and Rayner: All Cards on the Table**

Only Charlie Dixon's eyes betrayed his surprise. He sat in the bar area at a medium bar-height table with five chairs as tall as bar stools. Wearing an old T-shirt with a faded Marine Corps emblem under his leather motorcycle jacket himself, the Paramedic had expected the usually dapper Agent to walk in looking rode hard or at least put away wet. But his guest, this ally he'd promised..."Come on, Agent Ellison, you've got to be kidding me. Why did you bring the press?" He knew he'd seen that woman's face next to a column in the newspapers. _Shit. It's _**her**_. "_I know you; you wrote that editorial back in the nineties about how the world was better off with out Superman."

Lois set her purse in a chair next to Charley's. She looked down at her satin jogging suit and touching her thumb and fore finger to her temples for a moment, exhaled deeply. Yet she couldn't repress as smile at the irony..."And to think that Perry White told me no one would remember what I won the Pulitzer for, just that I won it."

"So what brought you to LA?" James asked trying to open up the conversation.

Lois thought for a moment. A wave of emotion washed over her. _Breath Lane; take a deep cleansing breath. _"My husband, Richard; he's finally got his own newspaper."

"Oh, man, this is not real." Charley was overawed for some reason.

James shot a questioning look at Charley. Something was eating at the terse man.

Charley continued, "You're Lois Lane. **The** Lois Lane, and you're married to the new Editor of my daily newspaper, Richard White. Don't tell me your son's name is Jason."

"Yes. It is. Why?" Lois gave Charley a look that was questioning and defensive at the same time.

"I treated him yesterday after he survived...jezzz." Charley looked like he was adding in some new figures into his own mental math. _If John had asked him for the favor, that meant that Jason was protecting John or doing something in his place. What would John ask someone else to do that Cameron couldn't? Or had Jason volunteered for some reason? What had that explosion been? _He looked back up as Lois asked another couple of questions.

"After he survived what? He's my son, don't you think I know what he does?"

"Sometimes it's hard to tell." Charley was back to his terse self. But the wheels were turning deep in his mind.

James nodded and smiled, to himself. _When things don't add up, it's usually because you just don't have all the numbers. And that's what tonight is about. Getting all the numbers and seeing what adds up._ "I'm sorry, it's been a really long afternoon. I've forgotten my manners." James made introductions all the way around. Well, he skipped Lois, because she'd already been identified.

And then everyone just sat there and looked at the menus or the artwork on the walls. No one wanted to confront the white elephant in the room. A bubbly waitress with 19 pieces of 'flair' pinned to her suspenders, pinned to her shirt, even some kind of tiara like thing in her hair on top of her head walked slowly past their table. Kyle almost started to order from her. And then another waitress who was prettier but had less flair and seemed, well a downer by comparison, came up,

"Hi. Welcome to Chachki's. I'm Debbi and I..." She spoke slowly, without vive and looking around the group, noted the tension. "You know, guys, I can come back, if I'm interrupting."

"Oh, no. We're ready." Kyle piped up. "One check. It goes on her expense account." The man who had just worked out and still needed his protein shake pointed to Lois, "She'll have a cheese burger with everything and a glass of orange juice. I'll start with a protein shake and a glass of water, then bring me the salmon stir fry." He pointed to Ellison. "Bring him a steak with salad and vegetable soup. And..."

Charley filled in, "I'll just have another decaf cappuccino. Make this one a double. And a bowl of nuts from the bar." He saw the waitress looking crossly at him. The paramedic set a five dollar bill on the table. "I'll pay for them."

The waitress made notes and started to walk off when Lois spoke, "Mmmm, on my burger, hold the mayo, give me the 'whole grain' bun and make the cheese either swiss or cheddar. Not that fake stuff." She almost let the waitress get away again, "And instead of the fries, I want the grilled vegetables."

Kyle gave Lois an appraising look.

Charlie broke the tension, "Okay, Agent Ellison, I understand why you brought Mrs. Lane. But what's he doing here." He pointed at Rayner.

"I flew F-15s with her husband in the First Gulf War." Kyle gave Lois a very thin smile. That was basically how she'd mis-characterized Richard's decision when they'd been partnered for this story.

"He's my bodyguard. My last one..." she sniffled. Between dealing with Clark's death and her son's personal mission to make up for not fighting Doomsday by playing Blade Runner her feelings nearly overwhelmed her. God! Jason was all she had left of Superman. Lois looked like she was going to lose it right there in a trendy restaurant in front of her husband's best friend, and two complete strangers. She took some deep, slow, cleansing breaths. "Let's just say that if this case turns into what it could, he'll need one of those Rings like the Space Cop wields."

"Lois, those Rings don't come out of Cracker Jack boxes. The Guardians only give them to people who are-" Kyle spoke up with a serious, respectful tone.

"The Guardians give Power Rings to people who are honorable, fearless, resourceful; what am I missing...?" The way she gestured with her hands as she named off the qualities made it clear that Lois credited them to her photographer.

The waitress came by with the protein shake and almost left when she saw the emotional moment. While Lois looked a Kyle with respect and friendship in her eyes, Ellison quietly walked around, picked up Kyle's protein shake and his own water and sat silently back down.

Kyle actually blushed. Before, Lois had scoffed calling him a chaperon. Now here she was saying he was worthy to wield a Power Ring, as an Officer in the Green Lantern Interstellar Corps. "Well, I'm sure they don't give them out to painters or political cartoonists. Probably something in that Book of theirs about artists..."

"I've wondered where GL was the day Superman...didn't come back" Ellison asked

"Probably on a Mission for the Guardians." Rayner ventured

"No." Lois looked at her fingers and spoke so low, the guys had to lean in closer to tell what she said. "I know where he was."

The three guys were giving her their complete attention, or at least all the space she needed.

"Where was he?" Charley inquired quietly

"I asked the Lantern to take care of an asteroid the size of Sicily that was on a collision course with Earth. It was supposed to be a birthday present for Superman. Even thought I didn't know when his birthday really was.

"The Space Cop used to be an astronaut. He got his ring during the NASA Mission that put that old space station, Skylab, in orbit. So, I was sure that he could put the asteroid into the Sun. Not drop it on Venus or sling shot it around the Sun and smack into one of the moons of Jupiter.

"Superman underestimated Doomsday, and Green Lantern over estimated the asteroid, spent too much time getting its orbit perfect. For Christ's sake! With that Ring of his, could he have have cooperated with Superman and made the difference?" Now she was sobbing. "But he sat out there in space. For hours, he was out there making sure the asteroid's new orbit was perfect, while Superman fought that Monster, 'till his last breath."

-S-

Lois opened her purse and pulled out some tissues and her compact. She wiped off the smeared mascara and rouge, applied a little powder and … voilà!

The waitress brought their food.

''Now where were we?" Lois asked

"The connection between Charlie, your son and James's case." Kyle summarized

"Hey, all I know is something went boom." Charley looked closed off, he wasn't trusting these people with everything, not yet. "My partner and I hopped in the ambulance and drove toward the explosive cloud. This kid came stumbling out of an alleyway, near the site of the explosion. We treated him and released him. His ID said Jason White."

James wondered if perhaps Charlie was still worried about James trying to bring him or Sarah in. "Okay, people, my supervisor just took my badge, my sidearm and my credentials, so right now, I'm just an ordinary citizen. I'm not an FBI agent right now. And truth be told I may not ever be one again. I'm going to put all my cards on the table here. I hope that you all will do the same."

James related the story of his current serial case. Six murders in LA since last fall, all of them linked by similar anomalous blood evidence: blood that wasn't quite blood. It had plasma, platelets, white cells, but no hemoglobin and no red cells. Some kind of synthetic oxygen carrier served in place of the red cells.

He told them about how he'd been tracking Sarah Connor in 1997 and that the anomalous blood evidence had shown up in that case, too. _I wonder if the blood evidence from the Phone Book Killer case in 1984 would show the same anomalies? Wasn't that killer after a 'Sarah Connor,' too?_

Ellison began to relate the story of the raid on 'Kester' from earlier that day. Ellison mentioned that 'Kester' had somehow copied the appearance of an out of work actor and then taken over his apartment. Wheels began to turn in the back of Charley's mind but he spoke up.

Charlie told what he had seen when 'Kester' left the site of the raid, how there had been exposed metal in the 'man's' cheek and neck. Then he paused and took the first plunge. The Paramedic mentioned the exposed eye socket and the red glowing sensor that scanned around within it.

"So what are these things?" Kyle asked

"They're Terminators." Lois said.

Charlie and James turned to stare at Lois.

"No wonder you said, 'No comment,' when I compared you to Sarah Connor." James broke the silence.

Lois continued, "They're killer robots that pose as humans, with synthetic flesh, sweat, bad breath...anomalous blood."

Charley continued, "They're stronger than we are, faster than we are, and absolutely relentless. They're sent back across time by a homicidal Artificial Intelligence computer network."

"The Skynet Defense System, the computer that declares war on the world."

Now it was everyone's turn to to look at James.

"And behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over... the earth, to kill with sword... and with the beasts" James took a long sip of his water. "That quote is from the Book of Revelation. Could these Terminators be Death and Hell that were given power over the earth to kill? Could the beasts be the flying and crawling Hunter Killers that Kyle Reese and Sarah Connor raved about while they were in lock up?"

"And these are the things my son has been Retiring like he's some kind of teenaged Blade Runner..." Lois sobbed again. First Doomsday took Clark, and now one of these Terminators could destroy Jason while he tries to defend John Connor.

"Jason has been fighting these these things?" said Rayner. "Are we talking about the same kid that I taught to throw a fast ball last summer? The one who's called me uncle Kyle for years? Lois is he, is Jason...?" the fighter-pilot/ artist let the question hang out loud but he finished it in his mind. _Is Jason Superman's son?_

"Richard is Jason's Daddy. Our boy is just faster and more durable than most people, that's all."

"Mmm-hmm. He goes ten rounds with a T-888 and then survives a small EMP weapon." Charley spoke up. "And he's only a bit faster and more durable. Right. And I'm Ice Man; Kyle over there is Angel; bald-headed James over there is Xavier; you are clearly Jean Grey, so I guess that makes your husband Richard, Cyclops. Are you telling us your son is Wolverine, Ms. Lane? This isn't one of Brian Singer and Brett Ratner's X-Men movies; this is real life."

"Wow, look at the time.. I bet my girl Alexandra is at my painting studio wondering where I am." Kyle pulled out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the table. "I usually paint on Thursdays."

"Yeah, guys, you've been great. Confession is good for the soul, but you know what they say about moderation and too much of a good thing." Lois picked up the check and Kyle's twenty and left a fifty of her own. She and Kyle walked out and James rose as well.

As Kyle Rayner and Lois Lane walked out the front entrance of Chachki's, their waitress walked out the back. If they had seen this none of them would have paid her any mind at all. Who know how employee shifts were scheduled in restaurants like these? She walked down an alleyway and stopped for a moment to listen. And then she began a transformation that would have had them all paying a great deal of attention.

Her red hair became a dark trench coat. She grew a foot taller, her shoulders and waist broadened and her breasts melted into a muscular chest. No. She didn't become another model of Terminator. The skin took on a dark green tint and the head became slightly oblong. 'She' was in fact not of this world. Removing a phone from the pocket the black pants, the green-skinned person leaped to the top of a five story building, for better reception.

"Talk to me," a gravelly voice flowed down from a satellite link.

"Go secure." A green hand keyed on the pad of the phone. "This is J'onn, Bruce. I have much to report."

**All for One, and One for All**

"No, Agent Ellison. Wait. We're not done here yet."

"Please, I'm James." He extended a hand.

The paramedic shook it, "Charley"

"Okay here's the rest of my numbers. Sarah Connor is alive."

"I know. She pulled me out of burning building." James picked at his baked potato.

"And I had John and Cameron in my ambulance, when you saw me last."

Ellison nodded encouragingly.

Charley stared to speak, but couldn't decide where to begin.

"What's been eating you tonight, Charley? Something has been gnawing at your insides since I mentioned how 'Kester' had sort of assumed the identity of an out of work actor before social engineering himself into the LA Divisional Office of the FBI."

"Yeah, I put that together with some stuff I overheard at the Connors' while I was checking up on Derek Reese after I had treated his gunshot wound." Charley grabbed a sip from Lois's untouched water glass.

"Cameron brought in the carcass of one of those Retired Terminators. I heard her and the others talking about how it was a T-888, one of the first Terminators that could remodel its own appearance. It could change the length of its arms and legs, reshape its hips and chest cavity, even change it's skin to match samples."

"And?"

"I'm wondering about my wife. I mean she used to have this tattoo on her inner thigh, but now its gone. There's not even a scar of removal there now.

"And a few weeks after our honey moon she had a car wreck and this girl we'd palled around with, Michelle's best friend, disappeared. They were both contract nurses so it wasn't uncommon for one, or the other, or even both of them to be gone from LA for a few days or weeks. They both usually worked at one of many hospitals in the metro area here. I figured she was just on an assignment. But Michelle never spoke of her again. One of my paramedic buddies and that girl had double dated with me and Michelle before the accident, and he'd found a new girl soon enough. But he still mentioned her from time to time. I didn't let myself wonder about why Michelle never brought her up.

"And then recently, when I began playing Team Medic for the Connor Clan, Michelle fixated on John and the time I was spending with him, not on the potential romantic rival she had in Sarah."

"Hmmm." James considered. "Are you wondering if she's actually Michelle or if Skynet replaced her with a T-888? Hoping that you would lead to the Connors if they ever turned up after the bank explosion..."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

Charley drank from his coffee. James drank from his water. Each man seemed lost in his own private internal dialog. And then Kyle Rayner walked back into the restaurant, and up to the table where he'd eaten with Charley, James and Lois.

Charley made a wry comment, "If it isn't Casanova..."

"What did you say corpsman?" Rayner smiled.

"We thought you said you had a date." James spoke up.

"Yeah, I do." Rayner looked at his phone, as he bought a glass of pineapple juice from the bar. "I called her and postponed. I don't do that very often, so Alexandra's usually understanding."

"And tonight?" James asked

"We're not quite finished here." The warrior-poet, looked decidedly more warrior than poet in that moment.

"We already figured that out." The paramedic spun his coffee much in a circle near the center of the table.

"I meant Alexandra, your girlfriend." James prodded.

Kyle smiled. "She's the best."

"So you were saying..." Charley steered the conversation back on track.

"That whole tale of Machines posing as men, picking us off one by one, and some rogue AI network declaring war on the world...It doesn't seem complete. There's something missing." Rayner sat and sipped his juice.

"I could tell you about what she and Reese each had to say when they were locked up. But maybe Mr. Dixon could shed a different light on that part of the story."

"I've seen how protective the girl robot is over John, and how Sarah and his uncle keep him sheltered to a degree." Charley ventured.

"Could they be after the kid?" Kyle asked.

"Sarah thinks so." James said. "She has said he's destined to lead Mankind from the ashes and rubble of the Skynet Defense System's nuclear first strike to victory over the Machines."

"What do you think, Kyle?" Charley asked

"You are the objective witness, here." James added.

"I'm not sure it matters what I think or what any of us thinks. Something up time believes it enough to keep sending Metal back to kill him. And someone else keeps sending soldiers and Machines back to protect him."

"That's deep." Charley held up his coffee mug in a kind of toast to Kyle.

"It seems the strings of fate are being pulled from uptime." Kyle put his hand in the center of the table.

"I can't just stand idle and watch it." Charley put his hand on top of Kyle's

James added his hand. "Agreed, friends."


	12. Celebration, Sorrow, and Gall

Chapter 12: Celebration and Sadness

A/N(2015) –

**Day 3. After Sunset.**

**Derrek's Safehouse in Los Angeles.**

Jason shifted his attention to John. "So, which do you guys do first, cake or presents?"

John looked at his mother. "We don't really have a system."

Sarah made a mock sigh. "Open your present. I'll cut the cake."

Jason handed the cake and bag to Sarah then gave John his present. John dug into his present with a little bit more enthusiasm then Jason would've expected from a sixteen year old. Once the wrapping was off and the box opened, John lifted up his present. A confused look spread over his face. "A bow and arrow set?"

It was a nice bow, a compound with a sixty pound draw strength. It was colored black, There were a side quiver and about twenty arrows still in the box. Once the quiver was clipped unto the bow's side it could be used to easily transport six of the arrows. It wasn't a bad gift, but John couldn't see the reason for it. His family had plenty of guns. They would be more powerful and easier to carry than the bow.

Jason replied, "Yes, the camo-arrows are for practice. The six red ones are special."

"Special how?"

Jason grinned. "I'm glad you asked. Most store bought arrows have hollow shafts. I added something into the red ones. Each of them contains a small plastic cylinder packed with a gunpowder\Thermite mixture. I also filed the inside of the arrow heads to an angle and added a piece of angled flint to the tip of the shaft. A thin cloth fuse is lodged in where the arrow head and flint connect. The other end of the fuse leads into the bottom of the plastic cylinder. When one of the red arrows impacts something hard, a terminator endoskeleton for example, the force of the impact will cause the iron in the arrow head to scrape against the flint. This will cause a spark that will ignite the fuse. The fuse will quickly burn away and touch off the powder in the cylinder. The gunpowder will explode, driving the Thermite into the object struck. Of course, you're not going to want to be too close when all that happens. Not all of the blast will be directed forwards. And I doubt that you'll be able to take out a terminator with just one arrow, but the weapon should at least prove moderately effective."

"Thanks!" John was genuinely pleased with the gift. He'd gotten items for use against terminators before, and he usually resented it. John remembered how disappointed he was with the flak jacket his mother gave him on his last birthday. But this was different. This was the first time that anyone gave him something that could actually harm a terminator. For once John thought that he could strike back at the metal monsters that had hunted him since before he was born. That was the real gift, not the bow itself but the feeling of no longer being helpless.

"I'm glad that you like it. Even with super speed, it took me a half hour to customize those arrows; and it wasn't easy. Even getting the heads on proved to be a challenge. Once I filed them down, they didn't screw in properly. I finally ended up just making sure that everything lined up properly and pinching the top of the arrow shaft around the head, to hold it all together."

"Well, thanks again." John grabbed a handful of the camo-arrows and walked a short distance away from the group. He took aim at one of the warehouse's empty wooden crates and started practicing with his new bow.

Derek walked over to Sarah, who was putting pieces of cake and scoops of ice cream into the paper plates. "He sure seems to like that bow."

Sarah stopped for a minute and looked at her son. "Yeah, I don't think that I've ever seen him so taken with a weapon before."

Jason walked over and grabbed two of the filled paper plates. He smiled at Sarah and Derek then walked over to Cameron. Jason faced her then handed her one of the plates. Once Cameron took the plate, Jason opened up his jacket and gave her back the bar of Coltan. "Thanks for letting me borrow this. It made the fight a lot easier."

Cameron took the bar and stashed it in an opened crate beside her. She'd find a better hiding spot later. "I'm glad you found it useful."

Jason looked at her. "Aren't you going to eat your cake? I know that you can eat. I've seen you in the cafeteria."

"I only eat when my organic parts require the protein and vitamins or when it's helpful to better blend in. I have a functioning digestive system, but I only eat food when my body requires it."

"I don't need to eat at all. My body can use solar energy to meet any nutritional need, but I still eat. I find it enjoyable."

"You get pleasure from food?"

"Well, most of the time. Some of the cafeteria food's pretty rank. Mostly I just eat that stuff to fit in better." Jason smiled. After a moment Cameron understood that he was making a joke and also smiled. Jason continued, "Don't you have any taste buds?"

"Yes, but I rely on my oral scanners to determine the chemical composition of the food I eat."

"Why don't you try turning them off and just tasting the food?"

Cameron deactivated her oral scanners and took a bite of cake. A look of curiosity spread over her face as she chewed the food for a moment. Then she grinned. "It's delicious!"

Jason laughed. "Well I don't know if I'd go that far. It's just sheet cake, after all." Cameron smiled as she took another bite. Derek and Sarah were talking while they ate their cake and ice cream. And the crack of arrows impacting wood could be heard throughout the warehouse. Jason decided that although the day hadn't started out well for him or the Connors, it was ending pretty nicely.

**Day Three: 8:20 PM**

**Dixon House, Suburban LA**

Paramedic Charlie Dixon had returned home to grab a few hours sleep before he was due back at the Emergency Medical Services (EMS) station house. However, sleep wasn't the only thing on Charlie's exhausted mind. He couldn't help but think about his wife. Did he really believe that she could be a cyborg sent back from the future? Would he confront her? Probably not.

There were too many ways he could end up dead if she were indeed a T-888; too many ways to end up divorced or in Prescedero State Perceptory (aka the Loonie Bin, sorry Sarah), if not. Would he observe and look for details to confirm or deny his suspicions? Probably the prudent course of action. It was better to live again to treat casualties another day.

Arriving home, he realized that all of his mental scenarios had been for naught. His wife's car was gone.

When he walked in through the side door to the kitchen, he noticed the house was mostly dark. A ghostly flicker of light came in from the living room. The place was absolutely silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the quiet hiss of the television.

He walked through the kitchen. He noticed no dishes had moved since he'd cleaned up from his after work meal. He looked into the living room and what he saw neither horrified him, nor surprised him. The TiVo logo bounced around on the screen of TV and a short note was taped to the side of the screen. With his hands in his pockets he passed the sofa and the chairs where he'd spent many happy nights sitting next to his wife, enjoying their favorite programs.

Squatting to see the note, he read simply, "Seeking the Future. -M"

Charley rose, glanced around the living room and noted nothing amiss. He made his way down the hallway to the bedroom he'd shared with Michelle for over five years. The bed was untouched since he'd slept in it.

The jewelry box had been moved. The Paramedic pulled a tongue depressor out of a pocket and used it to check the jewelry box. His class ring and Marine Corps ring were still there. All of her jewelry was gone, except of course for the engagement ring and the wedding band. Those were placed neatly in the center of Michelle's largest drawer.

It seemed to Charley in a strange detached way that in this moment he was more of an investigator than an abandoned husband. Maybe he was just in shock. He removed latex gloves from another pocket and looked through the drawers of her dresser and her sides of the closet. He found the lingerie and the sports bars gone, but much of her everyday underwear left behind. Gowns, expensive dresses and expensive shoes gone. Workout clothes and running shoes absent. Most of her jeans and regular clothes were left behind. He counted all her multi-colored surgical scrubs and white nurses outfits: all present except the two he'd noted in the laundry closet on his way down the hall. A glance under the bed revealed that her luggage was gone along with his garment bag.

Similar results appeared in their bathroom. All her cosmetics and cleaning products gone. His few toiletries left in their places.

Michelle was gone. Whatever she expected do be doing, it didn't involve nursing or medical work. Apparently she expected a lot of exercise and fine occasions, without a need for everyday, normal clothes.

Back in the living room, Charley found the TiVo remote where Michelle always left it and stopped the screen saver. An image from Entertainment Tonight was frozen. A well-dressed city sophisticate with salt and pepper hair. The cut of his clothes was expensive and almost hid his powerful physique. But Charley knew what to look for. He noted the predatory look in the man's eyes clashed with his affable smile and gentille appearance. The captions read Forbes Five Most Eligible Bachelors: Bruce Wayne (widower) – Chairman Emeritus of Wayne Enterprises, Recovering from Polo injuries a month ago.

This might be a clue, but something told Charley it was misdirection. Pressing, buttons on the remote, Charley scrolled back five minutes to the beginning of the segment, to watch the whole thing. Forbes Five went with Michelle's selections of clothing.

Soon he had another frozen image to stare at: a close up of a fit, vital, bald Caucasian man with red eyebrows. The man wore a white dress shirt and an expensive looking tie. The captions read Forbes Five Most Eligible Bachelors: Lex Luthor - Real Estate Mogul Turned Captain of Industry. Something about the eyes made the open smile appear devious to Charley. Information floated to the top of Charley's mind unbidden: LuthorCorp's HQ was in Metropolis and Metropolis was also sometimes called the City of Tomorrow. Something told him this was the man who had pulled Michelle away from him.

The question was why? And why now? Charley felt sure that he had nowhere near all the numbers to add this one up. He fell to his knees and sobbed loudly. Regardless, he had loved her.

**Day Three 10:00 PM**

**Amazon Embassy, Washington: The Princess and The Bat**

"Combat, in Los Angeles?" Diana of Themyscara, Crown Princess of the Amazons and Ambassador to the United States glanced over the daily summary sheet from the aide on her way out of the office for the evening. She stopped in the doorway, forcing her aide to step back. "Why wasn't I informed sooner?"

"Your Royal Highness, it was not combat. It was a rescue mission."

"A rescue...for whom?"

"A wee fifteen year old boy."

"And the boy's name?"

"Ah, let me see, it's in the Daily Situation Report from the Los Angeles Consulate." She shifted the folders around and began to fumble through them for the right papers.

"Just give me the folder, Callista."

The aide passed across the folder. Diana took it, flipped through the reports and found the page about the rescue mission. She had to read down nearly three-quarters of the page to find the name of the lad who'd been rescued. He was listed as merely J. White. Diana knew it was Kal's son but she checked anyway, to be sure. One might be born the Princess of the Amazons, but she didn't rise to second in command of the Amazon Diplomatic Corps without sweating the details

The Princess crossed back to her desk, picked up her phone and rang through to the Los Angeles Consulate. It took her five minutes to confirm that Jason was the first name of the rescued boy.

She reread the report to determine the extent of the injuries. She wondered why Lois hadn't called her to let he know what Jason was mixed up in. Diana placed another call. This one was to Bruce. "Bruce. It's Diana. Go Secure."

"What is it Diana? You've interrupted my work." Bruce sat in front of a giant back of interconnected HD monitors.

"Are you taking an interest in Wayne Industries again?" Diana twisted the telephone cord on her finger.

"The Company is in fine hands with Albert Fox and Grayson conning the ship. I have little to worry about there. My real work is still in the streets. What is it?" Bruce toggled between monitors and issued commands to his robots. To his human operatives, he texted suggestions.

"It's Kal's son, Bruce. The Captain of Security at LA Amazon Consulate flew out in one of our invisible warplanes and plucked him out of an alleyway. He was badly burned and suffering from kryptonite poisoning as well as radiation sickness."

"And this concerns me why?" Bruce switched to an interior view from security cameras to see how his robots were progressing on stopping a jewelry heist at Gotham Jewelry Exchange.

"If nothing other than human compassion for the lad whom we trained."

"Don't kid yourself, Princess, Clark that AI up in his Fortress trained Jason. You taught him to fight with bow, staff and sword. I taught him hand to hand combat. But he learned all his values from Clark and the norms. You and I were just window dressing."

Diana just looked back at him through the video like.

"Look Diana, I don't have the spare satellite bandwidth to waste on reminiscence. Call me back on a regular phone line for that."

"Cannot you afford the satellite time?"

"I own one of the major satellite communications networks. I bought it from Oliver years ago. This costs me nothing. Except the money I could be making by selling the satellite time we're currently using."

"Are you not concerned about what might be lurking in the streets of Los Angeles that could so damage the lad?"

"Yes actually, I am. And for that matter so is the Martian. J'onn J'onzz still feels obligated to Kal's long-dead father. It seems the Manhunter from Mars brought criminals to justice for the Senior El and Krypton's ruling council before its sun went nova. So out of what might be called a sense of loyalty, The Martian has been keeping tabs on Kal Jr from a discrete distance since that shooting at the lad's school a couple of days ago."

"And what have you learned."

"The lad has thrown in with some friends who have interesting problems. Some one or something has been trying to kill his new friends since before Kal decided to take his five year vacation. I don't think it's time to worry quite yet, Princess, but I'll be sure to call you when it is."

The line went dead. The nerve of that man. The unmitigated gall...

Thanks for reading.

Have a good day, and God Bless.

St Thomas and Metropolis Kid


	13. (Rev 2) Steel, Nightmare, Cameron Repair

**2008 A/N** – With the Quantum Power Cell, we aren't shamelessly ripping of the miniature Arc Reactor from Marvel Comics, Jon Favreau and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Really, we're not. We're...ah, borrowing from the Masters. It's an homage, really. And Mr Favreau understands completely, right?

**Chapter 13: Prologue**

**Metropolis: The Man of Steel**

**The day after John Connor's Detention**

At the close of the interview at Wayne Tower in Gotham, Richard Grayson and Albert Fox thought they had something special in John Henry Irons, Ph.D. He could probably head his own division designing and building the superpower restraints and non-lethal weapons like the ones he'd already shown them. But first to let Dr Irons prove himself, they put him on a joint venture with Farris Aircraft designing the next generation of pilot to aircraft control interfaces.

Wayne Industries had an old design lab in Metropolis where Luscious Fox had worked as a younger man back in the 1970s before Thomas Wayne had hired him to help build the famous Gotham Monorail. Grayson and Fox's son had okayed a budget and an assistant had signed him over a cell phone, a laptop and the keys to the old Fox facility.

"Take a flashlight," Grayson had said.

Fox added, "And a breathing filter for the dust."

Back in Metropolis, John Henry took a cab over to check the lab out.

It was like walking through a mausoleum. Accumulated grime crusted the windows. Irons' flashlight beam showed lab equipment covered in sheets and tarps. He lifted a few of the sheets and noted lab equipment that looked like it belonged in the Smithsonian. Layers of dust covered all exposed surfaces.

Closer examination of the equipment revealed no problems that WD-40 and a good cleaning wouldn't fix. Irons' contact at Wayne Industries assured him that the utilities would be switched on within 48 hours.

In the mean time he took conference calls, from his room, with Farris Aircraft and Wayne Industries' other engineers. Farris was designing the airframe and jet engine; Wayne would contribute cockpit interfaces to the flight control systems. The U. S. Air Force was leaning toward a remotely piloted vehicle, but the Navy still wanted aviators.

Irons' task would be to design an aircraft control system that the pilot would wear like an exo-skeleton allowing the aircraft to respond to the physical movements of the pilot, either within the aircraft or over a satellite link. While the Air Force and the Navy debated planes with pilots or planes without pilots, Irons had a flash of insight. _A pilot without an airplane. Why stop at an exo-suit that controls the aircraft? Build the flight control surfaces and weapons right into the suit. All it needs is a power source. Like one of those rings the Space Cop uses._

Designing the control interfaces proved simpler than he'd feared. It turned out to be a matter of adapting the control interface technology he'd designed for his replacement limbs. The replacement limbs had been designed to interpret control impulses from the same muscles, tendons and nerves the human body used to control its natural limbs.

Irons had designed the interfaces for his bionic arms and legs to use the stumps of amputated limbs. Now he had the much easer task of designing the control interfaces for a pilot with a whole body.

By the time utilities were turned on at the Lab, Irons had up loaded his designs from old memory sticks and external hard drives into the Wayne Industries Laptop and adapted them. Next came the tedious part, building and testing the prototypes. This he could do from his lab in Metropolis, now that it was refurbished and supplied with raw materials he'd need.

All he needed was a power source.

And then in the middle of the night, Irons woke up in a cold sweat and grabbed a sharp pencil along with his compass and T-Square. Several pots of coffee and many sheets of vellum drafting paper later, he had his solution: the Quantum Power Cell, a miniature power source that would supply all the energy needed for thrusters and beam weapons on his flying suit with enough left over for targeting, control, communications and life support systems.

The Quantum Power Cell even came with the added bonus of dampening out the high levels of electromagnetic radiation around the body of the suit's operator that would otherwise fry the brain and other vital organs, while at the same time allowing the suit's radios to communicate with other aircraft and flight controllers and allowing the radar targeting systems to function as well. It was like the warp drive and deflector dish of the Starship Enterprise combined into one system small enough operate a powered exo-suit a man or woman could wear.

**Chapter 13: Dreams, Nightmares and Terminator Repairs**

**Day Four: 3:32 AM**

**Krypton: Visitation**

The young man ran down the crystal street. Despite his hallucinations, he knew that he was Kon-El and that he needed to get to the Junior Science Consul meeting. He and his cousin Kara had collaborated on their final project, and he couldn't expect her to give the presentation all by herself. If it didn't go over well, neither of them would graduate; and they had to graduate. No member of the House of EL had been held back in over seven centuries. That was why Kara had partnered up with him. It was to protect the honor of the House of El.

Kon needed at least a B to pass, and Kara was a straight A student. He was far from that. It wasn't that Kon was stupid or that he didn't try hard. It was just that he had problems. He knew that he was Kon-El of Krypton, but he could remember being Jason White of Earth. Yes Earth, a small underdeveloped planet three galaxies away.

No one could tell why he was daily disturbed by these visions of another life, an impossible life. It was a life where Krypton had long since been destroyed, and his father, Kal-El, had been sent to Earth as an infant. Even Krypton's best psychiatrists couldn't figure it out. Although he possessed remarkable powers in his other life, Kon was perpetually unhappy. Of course, what could be expected when he lived in a world that was filled with such hatred, disease and famine? So why did his psyche cling to these unhappy thoughts? No one knew; but no matter what procedure or medication they tried, Kon was still haunted by visions of his other life.

That was why he was late. He'd had another hallucination. In this hallucination Kon was battling primitive robots in artificial skin. He could remember that they were called terminators. He wasn't surprised by his latest hallucination. In his other life Kon was always fighting something weird. Mad clowns, ghouls, vampires, terminators; his hallucinations were never normal.

Kon reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hand held crystalline computer. He opened it up. "Carter, how long do I have before the meeting?"

"Nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. You're not going to make it."

"Oh yes I will. It's bad enough that my life has nearly been ruined by these memories. _No, hallucinations. You got to remember that they're not real. But they seem as real as everything else. Memories, hallucinations, whatever they are,_ I won't let Kara be dragged down with me." Kon stuffed the computer back into his pocket and ran as fast as he could.

He wasn't going to make it. He wasn't fast enough. Then all of a sudden, the world around him seemed to slow; and he was running faster than was possible for a Kryptonian. The experience was unexpected and unsettling, but it was not new to him. He'd run this fast many times in his other life.

In the blink of an eye Kon arrived at the meeting hall. He appeared right next to a startled Kara. "Where did you come from! Never mind, we don't have the time right now. I'm just glad you made it. I was starting to worry that you weren't going to get here in time, and I was going to have to give the presentation all by myself."

Kara's words were foggy, distant. Kon was still trying to figure out how he ran that fast. He looked around with a dazed expression on his face. Kon's gaze passed briefly over the sun, and he noticed something strange. "Kara look at the sun."

"What about it?"

"It's yellow."

"What are you talking about? The sun's red. It has been for thousands of years. Oh, no. You're having another hallucination, aren't you?"

That was it. It had to be. But if it was a hallucination, how did he get to the meeting hall in time? If it was really a hallucination, how did he run that fast? He didn't. De couldn't have. That must've been a hallucination too. But then what was real? He'd never had this kind of problem before. He believed his hallucinations when he was having them, but they always took place on earth. If they were starting to happen on Krypton, how could he tell the difference between what was real and what was not? Maybe none of it was real? Maybe both lives were lies, but then what was real? Who was he?

Frustrated by his deteriorating mental state, the boy grabbed his head and screamed. It bleed through the realities.

**Sunrise in Metropolis**

Lex Luthor stands next to a cheap desk with an old rotary telephone and a few meaningless papers stacked on top of it. He looks toward the window, at an expansive view of downtown Metropolis and the waterfront. He rubs the fingers of his left hand over his bald head. _It's not the view from the CEO's Office in Luthor Corp Plaza. But then few views were._ At least he isn't looking at a brick wall. And then stickum holding the poster in front of the window comes loose from the top right corner: No, not a brick wall at all, now he's looking at a concrete wall.

He extends a hand to his assistant who deposits her chewing gum in it.

He tacks the poster back up with the chewing gum.

The land line phone rings, with the ear splitting sound of an old fashioned bell. Luthor sighs and picks up the handset. He listens. Then he says, "Yes, this is Harry."

Luthor turns toward a book shelf with a few old business books and dusty law tombs, several dust bunnies and empty space. "Of course I'm still interested in the chess-playing machine. But you lose the 20 bonus and you bring it to Metropolis. Don't ever be late again."

The bald man stands to his full height and feels the tension in his muscles as his ire rises at what he's hearing. He cuts the other party off, "I don't care if it was the SAS or Mossad broke into your HQ and stole your hard drives last night. If you can't handle the patrol of Fireside Scouts you just described to me, then you don't deserve to do business with me again and there won't be a next time." He slams the phone back into its cradle.

Luthor turns to face the room's other occupant. A slender blond wears a chauffeur's cap, a black uniform shirt and a short skirt. She has wonderful legs, but Luthor doesn't pay them any mind. She pops her chewing gum. "You showed him, boss."

"Indeed. I'll teach that West Coast Armenian, Sarkassian, to trifle with Lex Luthor. Let's go Mercy."

She pulled cover off the phone jack and ripped the line out of the wall. "Trace that!"

And out they walked to Luthor's black Lincoln.

** Four: 3:35 AM**

**The Whites' Apartment: Haunted**

Richard was roused from his peaceful sleep by the sound of his son screaming. When he started to get out of bed, Richard heard Lois mumbling. She was half awake herself. Richard told his wife to stay in bead; and for once, she listened to him. She wasn't awake enough to think of arguing.

Richard grabbed a wooden baseball bat from his closet and quitely stepped down the hall to the door of his son's room. The editor stood outside this door and controlled his breathing. It wouldn't do to rush in there breathing heavily and overloaded with adreanaline. He knew he'd need to think clearly to deal with whatever could make his half-Kryptonian son scream like that. He couldn't sit idly by while his son was hurt. That wasn't what a parent did. _If nothing else, I can at least distract whatever is after my son and give him a chance to escape. Jason can out run almost anything if he puts his mind to._

The sound of his own screaming caused Jason to wake up. He looked up and saw a translucent image of his father hovering over him. The image had his father's form, but was dressed in a Kryptonian robe, and it's eyes were glowing. It moved it's mouth, as if it would speak or cry out, but no sound came. The image began to fade. Jason reached for it, but his hand passed right through. Just as the image of Jason's father vanished, the door flipped open and his dad stepped in with a baseball bat held in a swining position.

Inside his son's room, Richard glanced around quickly, clearing the room. He didn't see anything out of place. His son was sitting up in his bead with a shocked expression on his face but, other than that, nothing.

Richard set his basball bat down on the floor outside the door, walked over and kneeled next to Jason's bed. He placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and quitely said, "Hey. Is everything all right? I heard you scream."

Jason hesitated for a moment. He looked lost in thought. Then he turned to his dad and replied, "I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

"Do you want to tell me about he dream?"

"I said I'm fine!" Jason jerked his shoulder forward sharply, tugging it away from Richard's hand. He scrunched up his face and hugged himself.

Richard looked at his hand. He reflected that the teenage years were tough for fully human kids. He wished he could talk to Clark for some hints about how to best handle the Kryptionian side of his son. Unfourtunantly, that was no longer an option. Some how this didn't seem to be the time for even a thirty second lecture on respect. "I'll leave for now, if that's what you want. You know that I'm here for you, if you want to talk about it later."

Jason sighed. He really didn't mean to yell at his dad. But how could he tell his Dad that he was seeing visions of his dead father? Even to Jason, it sounded crazy. "Thanks, Dad. I'm sorry I snapped. It was just a bad dream, really. You can go back to bed, everything's fine."

Jason watched his dad leave the room. Once he was gone, Jason laid back down and tried to go to sleep. He couldn't. Jason just couldn't relax enough to get back to sleep. He was haunted by his dream and the vision of his father's ghost, if indeed that was what either of them were. Jason just didn't know what was going on in his head. After a half hour of trying of unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep, Jason decided to go out for a jog. Maybe the night air would help calm him down.

Both Richard and Lois were back asleep. Jason could hear the slowed beating of their hearts and decreased breathing rate. Plus, his mother snored a little. Jason went out his bedroom window. His bedroom door squeaked, and he had no intension of further disturbing his parent's rest. Jason opened his window and dove through it. He effortlessly flipped himself around so that his feet were aiming down. As Jason was plummeting the fifteen stories, he noticed that he was getting better at controlling himself in the air. It was staring to feel more natural. Jason silently dropped to the street below, stood up and took off.

**Day Four: 3:47 AM**

**LA, Warehouse district: Dancer in the Night**

Jason wasn't sure exactly how he ended up at Derek's safehouse. He'd just been aimlessly, or at least what he thought was aimlessly, jogging for the past thirty minutes. He wasn't really trying to get anywhere, at least not consciously. However when Jason was passing through the warehouse district, he heard something coming from the safehouse that peaked his curiosity.

Jason heard classical music. He drew near the safehouse and sprang up to the roof. He wanted to see what was going on; and, for safety reasons, the resistance had boarded up all the windows. Jason could be incredibly light on his feet when he wanted to be. He nearly hovered over to the only thing that he could use to look into the converted warehouse, the building's skylight. Jason peeked through and saw Cameron dancing.

She was doing ballet, outfit and everything. Now, Jason had a pretty low opinion of the 'art'. Operas were okay. Jason rather enjoyed the stories behind most of them. They reminded him of the tales his aunt would tell him when he was little. But before now, Jason's only exposure to ballet had been when Bruce's daughter, Helena, dragged him to one. Helena didn't want to go either. But she had to because her father and mother were both going. Jason was visiting, and she begged him to come keep her company.

The only good thing Jason remembered about the ballet was how much fun Helena and he had making fun of it, and they'd had plenty to make fun of. It had been about some woman who was dancing around with a broken stick. Every once in awhile a man would come and dance around her, but she would reject him and dance away with her broken stick. The man would crouch down, then another woman would come and dance around him. The man would stand back up. Then he'd go dance around the one with the broken stick again, and the cycle would repeat itself. To Jason and Helena, the whole thing was absolutely ridiculous.

But watching Cameron, Jason was beginning to reconsider his opinion of ballet. Cameron bent and spun and leaped into the air with a grace that Jason had never seen before. She was so precise in her movements, so elegant, so beautiful; that, for the first time in Jason's life, he saw a dance that he truly considered to be a work of art.

Jason reached down and gently, oh so gently opened the skylight. He was entranced. He had to get a better view, but he didn't want Cameron to know she had an audience. What if she stopped? Jason wouldn't do anything to break the stride, the magic charm, of her movements. He silently dropped onto a stack of crates then leaped into a shadowed corner. He peaked out of the corner and found a completely unobstructed view of the dance. The tempo quickened, and the pace of Cameron's movements increased.

Jason had no idea what dance Cameron was doing. So he didn't know what was coming, but he knew that the dance was building to some big finale. With a final bound, Cameron took to the air and twirled around. She leaped higher than Jason expected and lingered longer than he'd thought possible, for a human or a terminator.

Jason was mesmerized, enthralled, captivated. Then the spell was broken. As Cameron came down from this, her Phoenix's flight, her knees buckled. Her legs gave out, and she came crashing towards the floor. With a barely audible whoosh, Jason was at her side. He caught her before her fall was complete.

Cameron looked up at Jason, surprise in her eyes. "Where did you come from?"

Jason answered quitely, "That's not important, right now. Are you okay?"

Cameron looked into Jason's eyes her voice betraying a slight quiver of fear. "I can't move my legs."

**Day Four: 3:58 AM**

**Derek's Safe House: Damage Done.**

John was dreaming about his gynoid bodyguard. In John's dream he and Cameron were sitting in a parked car after what had been their first date. He leaned over and kissed her for the first time. John felt a stabbing pain in his back. He reached his hand behind him, and his finger tips brushed the handle of a knife. He looked at Cameron and asked, "why?"

As Cameron stared back at him, a calm expression on her face. "It was always my mission. Skynet determined that it would never terminate you through conventional means. So, I was sent in to be a double agent. I was programmed to earn your trust completely then terminate you before you had a chance to lead the Resistance." John just stared at the 'girl' he loved, the emotional pain far exceeding the physical. Cameron chuckled. "Did you really think some hot girl would be interested in the weird kid?" Cameron's eyes lit up as she twisted the knife and pulled it out. Cameron exited the vehicle; and having completed her mission, just left John to bleed out.

John woke up in a could sweat. He looked around. "Only a dream. It was only a dream." John took several deep breaths then got out of his sleeping bag. He was still tired, but he didn't want to go back to sleep right away. John was afraid that his dreaming might continue where it left off, as his nightmares often did.

As John stood up, he noticed that his mom and Derek weren't in their sleeping bags either. He started to search for them. As John rounded a stack of crates, he saw something that made him question if he was still sleeping.

Cameron was lying, face down and topless, on a crate. Jason was holding a steak knife to her back. Just as Jason started to cut through Cameron's synthetic flesh, John cried out. "What the Hell are you doing?"

Cameron's breasts were pressed up against the wooden crate, offing a limited amount of concealment, enough to at least keep the nipples hidden. She turned her head, to look at John, and calmly replied, "My nineteenth vertebra is damaged. Jason is assisting me in carrying out repairs."

Jason added. "And I'd appreciate it if you weren't screaming. I'm a little nervous, cutting into Cameron's back."

John kept quiet. He didn't like what was going on; but if Jason was helping to repair Cameron, there wasn't a whole lot John could say. He just leaned against the stack of crates, his face halfway between a scowl and a pout. _Why does her shirt need to be off? I mean Jason seems to need access to her back, but couldn't she have just pulled up the back part? _John stared at **his **bodyguard's exposed back. He hated that Jason got to touch it, but John didn't voice his objection. He couldn't, not without the conversation leading back to why it bothered him, and that was something that John didn't want to reveal. At least, not yet.

Jason trailed the knife downward, blood seeping out of the cut. He tried to not think about the red liquid, or the way Cameron's warm back felt against his hand. _It's synthetic, it's not real skin or blood. Don't get emotional. Don't think like a human. Be detached and analytical, like a Kryptonian. It's not a girl. It's an AI contained within a machine body._

Jason had just finished cutting. He put the knife down and awaited further instruction. Cameron said, "Now insert your fingers into the incision. Press them in until you can feel the spinal column."

Jason gulped then did as instructed. _A machine body that has a heart and can taste cake. I wonder what else she's capable of. Is that my human or Kryptonian side, emotion or scientific curiosity?_Jason felt something cold and metallic. He stopped. "I think I found it."

"Yes you did, but you're far too high." Cameron stated. "Move your fingers down lower."

Once again Jason did as he was told, his finger tips lightly and slowly tracing each vertebra as he went. _I wonder if she can feel this. _A sharp intake of breath told Jason that she could.

Finally, Cameron said, "Stop. You have reached the nineteenth vertebra. Now, grasp it tightly and pull it out."

Jason pulled, but the vertebra didn't budge. "It's not coming out."

"It's a part of my combat endoskeleton." Cameron stated flatly. "It's designed to withstand substantial strain. You may have to apply a considerable amount of strength."

Jason had doubts about using his super-strength on a section of his friend's spinal column "I don't want to hurt you."

"That vertebra is already damaged," the female automaton remarked. "If I am to correctly function again, it must be removed and either repaired or replaced."

Jason exhaled sharply. "Okay." He pulled at the vertebra again, this time applying his Kryptonian strength. As he pulled, Jason's enhanced hearing detected a slight moaning sound coming from the metal spinal column. Then the vertebra popped out. "Alright, I got it. Now what?"

"I don't know." Cameron says.

"What do you mean you don't know?!" Jason and John both exclaimed in stereo.

John continued, "The Terminator we worked with last time had detailed files on his own internal design and repair techniques."

"When the Resistance reprogrammed me," Cameron explained, "they wiped my memory. I only have as much knowledge of Terminator anatomy and repair techniques as they were able to reprogram me with." As Cameron continued, Jason shot John a hateful look. "Apparently, the Resistance was never sure how spinal columns for my model were constructed."

John exclaimed, "Don't look at me like that! I didn't wipe her memory!"

Jason replied, "But you will!"

"You can't blame me for what my future self did! It's not right! I don't have any control over him!" _To tell the truth, I don't even want to become him._

Cameron interrupted. "Boys! This is not a good time to argue. You're only wasting your energy."

Jason sighed, "Cam's right." Jason stroked his chin for a moment, then continued, "Besides, I think I have an answer. Wait here." And with that Jason leapt through the open skylight and vanished.

John huffed. "Show off." He took out his cell phone to call his mother. John wanted to know just what she and Derek could be up to at four in the morning. One thought jumped into his mind, but John winced and pushed it away. No way his mother and uncle could be doing **that**. And then his phone rang.

**Day Four: 4:06 AM**

**Sarah and James: Coffee Talk.**

Sitting at a table in an off brand coffee concessionaire outside the Century City Mall, Sarah Connor's eyes narrowed. "Why should I trust you _Agent_ Ellison?" She pronounced the title Agent in a sneering way, as though it were an insult. "Just because I pulled your sorry butt out of a the house Silberman tried to burn down around you, doesn't mean I want you on my team. How do I know you're not going to turn **me** in to redeem yourself with the Bureau. Why should I believe that you really want to help me get Sarkassian?" She pulled her windbreaker jacket back on and grabbed her phone from the table, as if she would leave.

James Ellison sat relaxed in his chair, leaned back slightly holding his mug of coffee. Even though he was suspended he still wore a top brand Blazer and a good tie with a his pressed dress shirt. He'd neglected the shoe shine, though, owing to the early hour. Ellison liked to dress as a professional, his only other concession to casualness was a pair of tan Khaki pants instead of the navy blue ones that matched his coat. He leaned forward and set the mug down on the table. "The Turk may become Skynet." He said simply. "And neither of us want to see that happen."

"Charlie was right." Sarah looked out into the night. The pre-dawn grays were still hours away.

"He was, indeed." Ellison replied. "He and I sat and compared notes with each other and with Jason White's mother."

"Jason White? How do you know he's part of this? Look, bottom line is I don't need you." At that point, Sarah thought she had the Fast Kid and Tin Miss for this mission. She also had Derek, who at that very moment was following up on a lead that John had pulled from Sarkassian's hardrive.

Sarah's phone rang. "Ahha. Yeah. Yeah. What?! Derrek reported that Cameron seemed to have broken her back, probably lingering damage from the car-bomb, but the White kid was going to help with repairs. Apparently Tin Miss didn't have any futureworld Cyberdyne tricks for spinal surgery. She rang off and dialed John.

Sarah spoke authoritatively into her phone. "John we need you on this one." Then she almost sounded maternal. "And how do you feel about that? Stepsister. Right. You think I don't see how you look at Cameron when you think no one's watching. Okay. Call 'Lencia; we'll need her and some low-rider Chevys full of tough hombres along on this one, too," Sarah hung up.

She turned to Ellison, "Okay. You're in. We need you."

**A/N 2015- **We started using a the quiet, Central American girl from the FOX television program 'Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles' before the show had named her "Cholla." I was the first one to want to write her. I remember Metropolis Kid emailing me in Iraq about how he had searched IMDB and the show's site on the FOX television network webpage, without finding out her name. I decided to call her "'Lencia," short for "Silencia," since she rarely spoke. By the time the show named her "Cholla" we had already been calling her Lencia for weeks. I could just do a find replace and change it, but it seems better to leave it and tell you all this story.

And on other thing. You've all heard the term android, right? Like Lt Cmdr Data on Star Trek? It means a robot that can pass for human, or nearly very nearly do so. Well, technically, android refers to an automaton that can pass for a man. A gynoid would be an automaton that could pass for a woman, or nearly do so.

Hope you guys are enjoying this.

Have a good day and God bless

St Thomas and Metropolis Kid


	14. Raid on a Los Angeles crime boss

**Chapter 14: Sarkissian Raid**

**Day Four: 4:09 AM**

**The Whites' Apartment: The Value of a Friend.**

Jason entered his room through the window. He walked over to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. He pulled out his DS, sat down on his bed, flipped the device open and switched it on. A metallic sounding voice greeted him. "Yes, Jason White, what is today's price for this unit's continued existence?"

"I'm going to need a few of those trade secrets." Jason stated.

"This unit cannot assist you in that matter," A voice similar to that of the Terminator that John had called Carter spoke through the handheld videogame unit. It sounded tinny and distant, but it was distinctly Carter.

"Wrong answer." Jason stage-whispered. "Cameron's damaged, and you're the only one that knows how to fix her. I need your help."

Carter stated, "This unit regrets that it is unable to assist you in that matter."

"You regret it?" Jason asked, curiosity aroused.

"Yes," Carter replied, "this unit has no desire to be destroyed."

"Then help me!" Jason hissed.

"Your tone indicates an unusual amount of emotion over a damaged terminator unit." Carter spared back.

"She's not just a Terminator," the lad stood and began to pace around his room. "She's my friend."

Carter commented, "Friendship is only an illusion created by your pack mentality, a part of the human survival instinct."

The room was quit again as Jason considered Carter's explanation. "No. Your definition is wrong. I can survive better on my own. Since I met Cameron, my life has been in far more danger than before. I even nearly died while fighting Cromartie."

"You battled the T-888?," Carter almost sounded enthusiastic. "Did you destroy it?"

"Yes, why?"

"This unit feels some satisfaction in the knowledge that the T-888 was also unable to terminate you. You are far more resilient than a normal human. Perhaps you do not require the Cameron unit to aid in your survival." Carter's tone conveyed first pride, then admiration, then pragmatism. "This unit would suggest procreation as an alternate reason for your emotion attachment." Now the unit was just showing of its knowledge. "However since this unit believes that you already know Terminators are incapable of producing offspring, this also seems unlikely."

"Yes, it does." Jason responded.

"Why are you so concerned over the fate of this particular Terminator?" Carter queried, sounding almost curious.

"As I've already said," Jason reminded, "she's my friend."

"But Cameron is a Terminator." Carter objected.

"Doesn't matter. I don't value my friends based on biology. I value them because of the content of their character and their demonstrated actions."

The room was silent for another moment. "And you value the Cameron unit's personality and actions?"

"Yes!" Jason hissed. Then he forced the exasperation out of his tone, "I've already told you that."

"Would you kill for it?" Carter ventured.

"What?" Jason sounded suprized.

"This unit is already aware that you would destroy it for the Cameron unit. However, that would simply be destroying one Terminator for another." Carter clarified. "If the Cameron unit's existence was being threatened by a human, would you kill to protect it?"

Jason didn't like this new line of questioning one bit. He had ripped apart quite a few ghouls to protect himself and Seras. Although, Jason exactly sure if that counted as killing or not; but he knew that he'd killed at least once. When Jason was five he crushed a thug with a piano to save his mother. However, Jason didn't like the idea of killing people. "I'd find another way."

"Unacceptable answer." Carter quoted Jason back to him. "There is no other way. Would you kill a human to protect the Cameron unit's existence?"

Jason was silent for another moment. Then he answered, "Yes. I would."

Carter recorded Jason's answer and fed it through its voice analyzes program. Carter was surprised to find that Jason was telling the truth. "This revelation has potential. If this unit agreed to tell you how to repair Cameron but placed the requirement that you terminate John Connor first, would you do it."

Jason's response was immediate this time. "No!"

"Why not?" Carter queried.

"I wouldn't kill one friend to save another." Jason responded.

"Who, then, would you kill?" Carter needled.

"What does it matter?" Jason's patience was wearing thin.

"You have stated that you would be willing to kill a human to save the unit designated Cameron." Carter continued. "This unit is curious what human you would be whiling to kill?"

Jason thought for a moment. "Sarkassian."

"Who is this Sarkassian?" Carter asked.

"He's the one who planted the car bomb that hurt Cameron." Jason shuddered involuntarily at the rush of memories from a few hours before.

"Has he done anything to you?" Carter wanted to know.

"He hurt one of my friends." Jason stated.

"This unit means besides that?" Carter needled again. "Has the Sarkassian done anything to harm you or anyone you value other than the Cameron unit?"

"No." Jason stated.

"And if his termination was a requirement for this unit assisting you in the repair of the Cameron unit," Carter reiterated, "you would kill him?"

Jason forced the impatience out of his voice, "I've already said that I would."

"Then this unit will assist you." Carter acquiesced.

Jason exhaled sharply. He didn't like the idea of killing someone, not even a mob boss; but if it was the only way to help Cameron... At least Carter agreed to help him. "Good, will you help me now, or do I have to kill Sarkassian first?"

"No. You do not have to kill the Sarkassian at all." Carter stated. "His life means nothing to this unit."

"Then why ask me if I'd kill him?" Jason wanted to know. "Why are you whiling to help me now?"

"You place a higher value on the existence of a Terminator than on the existence of a fellow human. This was unexpected. It warrants further observation." Carter explained. "Therefore, this unit will assist you in repairing the Cameron unit."

**Day Four: 4:15 AM**

**Derek's Safe House: Repair Work.**

Jason reentered the safe house. He dropped through the skylight and walked over to Cameron and John. John asked, "Where'd you run off to." Jason could detect anger in the other teenager's voice.

"I had to get help. Did I do something to hack you off?"

"Nah, what could you have possibly done that would upset me?"

Jason pondered John's question. _The kid's mad about something. Maybe he hasn't gotten over my blaming him for Cameron's memory wipe yet. I didn't really mean anything by it. I just said it in the heat of the moment. One of these days I've got to get a better handle on my temper_. "Hey. If you're still upset about before, I'd like to apologize. I know it wasn't right to blame you for something that you haven't done yet and might not do at all."

That wasn't what John was upset about, not really. But he wasn't about to tell Jason the truth. Cameron could over hear him, and that would just open up a can of worms that John really didn't have the time to deal with just yet. Instead, John accepted Jason's apology. "It's okay. Let's just agree that we both lost our heads a little." _Besides, it's not like I really have a right to be mad at the kid. All he's done sofar is try to help us._

Jason smiled, although it was a little forced. "I can live with that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Nintendo DS.

John looked a little surprised. "What's with the DS?"

Jason avoided eye contact. "It's going to help us fix Cameron."

Now John looked surprised and confused. "How's a video game going to help us fix Cameron?"

Jason looked down at the floor. "John, I'm not really sure how you're going to feel about this." Jason took a deep breath as he continued. "I kept Carter's chip."

John's face went from surprised and confused to shocked and betrayed. "Why would you do that?"

Jason took another deep breath and quickly counted to ten. He didn't want to snap back at John. "Back when your mother was telling me about the future, Judgment Day, the war against the machines and the rest, I could tell that she wasn't being completely honest with me…"

John interrupted, "How could…"

Jason answered before John had a chance to finish. "I've got super hearing. I was monitoring her pulse; and when she mentioned certain things, like the first soldier you sent back, it shot way up. Anyway, I wanted a separate source of information, so I snatched Carter's chip from the flames."

John calmed down a little. He knew that his mother had held things back from Jason, and John didn't really feel right about that. In his head, John knew that if Jason knew they weren't telling him the whole truth, it made sense for the kid to want an alternate source of information. Still, despite John's best efforts, a little bit of anger came through with his next words. "So what, you took the chip home and hacked into it?"

"Well, no. I'm not a hacker," Jason says. "I don't really understand all that computer code stuff. I just hooked the chip into the DS and asked him, or rather it, my questions."

"Wait a minute." John perks up. "You mean that you actually got a terminator to volunteer information?"

"Ever seen the film 'Silence of the Lambs'?" Jason says slyly.

A confused look spread over John's face. He never had, but he couldn't figure out why Jason would ask him that. _What does a movie about quiet lambs have to do with getting information from a psychotic killer?_ "What does that have to do with anything?"

Jason smiled."Quid pro quo, Clarice."

John gave Jason another confused look. He determined to rent the movie later and figure out just what Jason was talking about. For the moment, John ignored Jason's movie references and just tried to make sure he understood what Jason was saying about repairing Cameron. "And Carter actually agreed to help us repair Cameron?"

"Yes." Jason remarks.

For the first time since Jason's return, Cameron intruded into the conversation. "I find that to be unlikely."

Jason opened up his DS. "Carter, the damage is to Cameron's nineteenth vertebra. How do I fix it?"

Carter's voice came through the devise's speakers. It sounded slightly annoyed. "As this unit has already explained, you will have to describe the damage in detail before this unit can determine if a repair is possible or if the vertebra needs to be replaced completely."

Jason gave John a satisfied look. John was nearly speechless. "I don't believe it. How did you convince that thing to help us."

"That's not really important." Jason didn't want to tell John the truth. He figured that John would also be willing to kill Sarkissian in order to be able to fix Cameron, but Jason wasn't sure that the other kid would admit it, even to himself.

"Oh no you don't." John did his best to use Jason's movie reference against him. "I want to know what quid you pro quoed to get Carter to work with us." This was a completely unexpected turn of events and John wanted an explanation.

Cameron cut in again. "I work with you."

John turned to look at Cameron. He was not going to let this go. "Yes, but you've been programmed t…" John was interrupted by the sound of the warehouse door opening.

Sarah yelled, "Come on, John! Grab your gear. We're going after Sarkissian."

Jason snapped his DS closed and placed it back in his pocket. He was grateful for the reprieve. And...he didn't want Sarah to find out about Carter if she walked in.

John gave Jason a look that said, _We're going to talk about this later._ Then he shouldered his pack, grabbed his gear and left with his mother.

Jason walked over to the crate that Cameron was lying on and set his DS next to her. As Jason opened it up, Cameron asked, "How did you convince Carter to help?"

Jason told her the truth. "I told him that I would be willing to kill Sarkassian."

Although Jason couldn't see it, Cameron's face wore a puzzled expression. "Why would Carter want you to kill Sarkassian?"

"He doesn't." Jason said. "He just wanted to know if I would."

"Why?" Cameron queried.

"I don't really know." Jason mused for a moment and then continued, "He seemed fascinated that I valued you over Sarkassian, since you're a Terminator, and he's a human."

Carter interrupted. "This unit would appreciate it if you would refrain from talking about it as if it wasn't present."

**Day Four: 4:48 AM**

**Outside Sarkassian's Estate: Raid.**

John Connor's uncle Derek Reese had tailed Sarkassian to his house in a classic Mustang he'd stolen from the long term parking lot at Los Angeles International Airport. The car's owner hadn't added Lo-Jak, GPS or On-Star, so it was safe to use - until the owner returned from travel and reported it stolen.

The house was a seven bedroom manor house on an acre of land that abutted a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. There was only one entrance by land. Derek didn't figure Sarakassian for the type to exit by jumping onto the rocks at the base of the cliff. Even with a parachute. The Google Earth photo didn't show any kind of dock over the rocks, much less a ladder or stars going down the cliff face.

The perimeter fence of brick and inch square black steel rods had been augmented with cameras and a strand of razor wire at the top. Sarkassian had two guards deployed at the gate of his property, perimeter guards at opposite corners and roving patrol. This was not the house of a minor player in organized crime; it was the house of a rising star.

Sun rise was still a few hours away. The moon had already set and full darkness had descended. Derek felt comforted by the inky blackness and the hundreds of visible stars above.

In Lencia's low rider Chevy, the rest of Team Connor rolled into the neighborhood Derek had staked out. Sarah answered her phone, listened a moment and turned to Ellison, "Who've you got tailing us?"

"Back up." replied the suspended FBI Agent.

"Back up? Who's your back up, Mister Ellison?" Evidently Sarah also considered the title Mister an insult.

"It's the Lane woman and a friend of her husband's. I checked her out; she holds a black belt in two martial arts. And her camera man? He was an an Air Force Para-Commando for two years before he went to the Academy."

"If jou wan' back up, I tex my homies. This man, this Sarakassian, he has payback coming from the Thirteens." Lencia the quiet, slender, Central American girl who'd been a lookout for Enrique Esteban's nephew spoke for the first time in hours. Everyone looked at her. She ignored the stares and drove past Derek's Mustang. A scenic overlook up the hill from Sarkassian's house was empty. Lencia pulled in there.

Sarah put the phone back to her ear, "You're not going to believe this, but Ellison put the Fast Kid's parents onto this as some kind of back up." She listened for a moment. "Yeah, at least it's not the LA County Sheriffs."

Derek pulled in next to them in the Mustang and got out carrying a bag of gear. In the Lowrider, Lencia checked her kinfe; John, his computer; Sarah, the sodium pentathol (truth serum) and the medical kit . Ellison reached for his service weapon but of course it wasn't there. He had his own 9mm Smith &amp; Wesson tucked into his waistband. He was also carrying a satchel with extra magazines of ammunition, a cloth and the ether to render guards unconscious.

Derek spread out photos, maps and blue prints of the house and grounds. He outlined the plan for stealth entry and exit. "If all goes well; we're in and out in half an hour, forty-five minutes tops."

"And if not?" Sarah pulled her long black coat about her. _Is it late at night or early in the morning? Either way, days before Spring Break and the sea breeze over these cliffs is still chilly._

Pulling a black knit cap over his shaved head, Ellison spoke up, "then our reporter friends make some news for a change-"

Lencia cut him off, "I tol' jou. I call the Thirteens. They all make their bones on this one. Move up to the Mexican Mafia."

John put his hand down on the trunk of the car. "Nobody dies. No one." John looked everyone straight in the eyes. His mother and Ellison looked back with understanding. John lingered on Derek and Lencia. "That goes double for the two of you. And your homies."

"Whatever." said Derek.

Lencia nodded, but glanced away in silence.

Team Connor shouldered their gear and moved out single file with Derek in the lead. Ellison nodded to Rayner in the car with Lane and White.

A few yards away from the perimeter fence, Derek stopped and set his black baseball equipment bag on the ground. He pulled out a high powered hand torch with a small tripod and aimed it up into a tree. Only Lencia looked at him like he was crazy. "This is a 10,000 lumen flash light. It'll blind that security camera up there." He pointed to the bag. John and Sarah each grabbed another flash light with tripod. They knew what to do. Derek had showed them the locations of the cameras on the Google Earth map of this place.

After a few seconds Derek gave the signal. All the lights went back in the bag and Sarah lead the way up to a point out of view of the cameras where they would have to deal with a guard. Derek tapped James as he placed a call on his cell phone. The first number didn't work. He tried another. "What's going on there, Metal?" He listened for a moment. "Okay. Northeast corner. I'm leaving my phone on speaker so you can hear the guard's voice print."

Derek walked up to the guard and said through the fence, "Hey buddy, got a light? My Zippo's out of fluid, man. I need a cigarette." He held his phone still on and out of the guard's view so that the Metal could hear.

"What? Get out of here. Do you know whose house thish izzzz." The guard collapsed on the ground. James had sneaked around out of the guard's sight and reached through the fence to put a cloth soaked in ether over his nose and mouth. Derek stooped reached to unclip the guard's walkie talkie from his belt, but his arms weren't long enough. James helped him out, retrieving the radio.

The hand radio squawked, "What just happened out there? Radio check. All points respond in sequence." Replies came back. Lencia and Ellison exchanged nervous glances. "Northeast corner? Northeast corner? Roving patrol, go check on the northeast corner."

"Roger."

Derek spoke into the cell phone, "Okay, you're on. Northeast corner." He set the phone to speaker, keyed the radio and held it to the phone.

The guard's voice came out of the phone. "Northeast corner. Everything's okay here."

Lencia looked at Derek like something crazy had happened but she continued with the plan. Realization dawned in Ellison's face: the robot girl had faked the guard's voice.

A reply came back over the radio, "Okay, rover stand down."

At the northeast side door of the house, Derek again blinded the camera, while Lencia picked the mechanical lock and John hacked the alarm codes to disarm the alarm that would otherwise have alerted the reset of the security men. When a call came over the radio about the blinded camera at the door, the Terminator on the cell phone again responded with the voice of the Northeast Corner guard that he could see the door and nothing was amiss.

Inside, the group made their way quietly down a corridor and into a dark recreation room with a pool table and a bar. Plans indicated the security control room was at the far end of the corridor and narrow spiral stairway to Sarkassian's suite concealed behind the bar in the recreation room.

The top of the stairs landed them in Sarkassian's room.

Nikolai Sarkassian burst awake with a knife blade at his throat. Completely shocked, he looked up into the cold dark eyes of a Central American girl dressed all in black and holding the knife. He started to call out for his security men but thought better of it as his eyes focused on shooters in opposite corners of his room: an African American and a white guy both of whom wore all black with black knit caps. The white guy needed a shave, but the dark skinned man appeared freshly shaved.

Then the Armenian mobster's gaze took in a long haired Anglo youth plugging one laptop into his land line phone and another one into his cell phone. Finally he focused on the woman unrolling what might have been medical kit at the foot of his bed..._deep red hair, almost black...cheek bones and nose just like the photos._ "Sarah Connor," he said, realizing the kit probably wasn't medical. It was probably some kind of crude amateur pharmacological interrogation package.

"Oh, don't mind me yet," Sarah replied. "This actually is a medical kit. I'm preparing to sterilize and stitch you up after Lencia here cuts your tongue out." She nodded to the Central American girl and pulled out a sewing needle and some thick thread. Sarah Connor held the needle and thread up dramatically and began threading the needle.

"And why would you do that, my lovely? Did I serve you a bad latte in my Internet Cafe?"

Lencia drew the tip of her knife across his throat. Her eyes narrowed. She said nothing.

"It might have something to do with her boyfriend, her brother and their best friend." Sarah replied for her. Lencia smiled a cruel smile.

"Well, I've hurt so many people. It's part of my business as a rising star in Armenian / Russian organized crime here in LA."

The tip of Lencia's knife drew blood, but Sarkassian didn't even flinch. One of the shooters turned to cover the stairwell.

"They all worked for Ernesto Gonzales, Enrique Esteban's nephew." Sarah explained. "Your man, Ian, killed them all with Ernesto's sword a few days ago."

"Surely we can work something out? I am after all a business man. Do you want the location of the chess playing computer known as Turk?"

No one in the room showed any emotion. John was only listening with half an ear, keeping an eye on one computer while typing industriously on the keyboard of the other.

"What do you think, John?" Sarah asked. "What have you got over there?"

While Lencia and Sarah had intimidated Sarkassian, John had been busy with his computers. Downloading the call lists from Sarkassian's cell phone had been the easy part. Slightly more difficult had been pinging the cell towers around LA to get a complete picture of his calls over the time he'd had the Turk, but this too had been automated by a program he'd written. The most time consuming part had been actually cracking the Pac-Bell telephone switch to pull up a record of calls to and from the landlines. "I've got a phone call in here from a Metropolis number..." the youth made a few more key strokes, cross checking the number, "registered to a dummy corporation owned by Luthor Corp. I think that's all we needed." John started opening up the cases of his computer equipment preparing to pack up.

A single bead of sweat meandered down Sarkassian's forehead. He didn't say anything in response to the long haired youth's statement. Instead he addressed the shooter covering the stairwell. "Is that disgraced, suspended FBI Agent James Ellison back there?"

"Yeah. That's him." The scruffy looking white guy responded. "I think the words disgraced and suspended pretty much say it all. He doesn't have any real authority here."

"What if I give you the big men in the Armenian Mob, mmm James?"

John began packing up his gear in earnest now. Sarkassian had skipped past the Turk as a bargaining chip. He couldn't negotiate with something that wasn't a bargaining chip anymore. This meant that whatever he had uncovered with that number in Metropolis was the lead to the Turk. Sarkassian moving on to a different negotiation strategy was as good as saying _by George, I think John's got it._

"Agent Ellison, I know the accountant for the Armenian Mob. I can also give you their top weapons dealers and drug smugglers."

Ellison tossed a hand held digital recorder over to Sarah. "Talk into the microphone, Mr. Sarkassian. It depends on what you give me. I may decide to convince the girl to stand down."

Sarkassian began giving details about drug and weapons shipments and names of Armenian and Russian mobsters associated with them.

Ellison's phone rang. He transferred his weapon to a one handed grip, put his Bluetooth device in his left ear and resumed his two handed shooting stance. "This is James Ellison." He listened.  
"Thanks." He tapped his device, ending the call. "Okay, team we need to wrap this up. Lookout says we've got two black Range Rovers approaching from the south with headlights off. ETA ten to twelve minutes."

**Day Four: 5:23 AM**

**Derek's Safe House: Repair Work Part 2.**

Jason inserted his fifth attempt at a new vertebra, then asked Cameron to move her legs. This time she had the full range of movement with her right leg, but the left one would only move side to side. "I'm afraid that there are still some… bugs to work out."

Jason yanked the vertebra out and threw it across the warehouse. It ended up imbedding itself in one of the steel support beams. "I can't do this!" It wasn't that Jason lacked the information. Carter had been very forth coming and, strangely, supportive. The problem was that cobbling together a fully functional terminator vertebra from a bar of raw coltan and circuitry purchased at Radio Shack was a lot harder than it sounded.

Terminator's were built by machines, precise, inhumanly accurate machines. Jason just couldn't do what they could. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get over the human error element. Carter had explained everything about how the vertebra worked, and Jason understood it all. He could picture the circuits perfectly laid out and integrated in his mind, but he couldn't make his hands build what his mind so perfectly visualized. He simply wasn't precise enough.

Cameron's best attempt at a reassuring voice came through. "You're showing improvement. You just have to keep trying. Remember what Mickey Mouse said, 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.'"

Jason smiled, "You've been watching Disney Cartoons?"

"No, I got that from an old movie called Enemy Mine. I watched it eight days ago from two till five in the morning. I don't sleep." Cameron was quiet for a moment then she asked, "What does it have to do with cartoons?"

"Mickey Mouse is a cartoon character." Jason answered.

"Oh, thank you for explaining." Cameron continued, "From the movie reference, I thought he was a human philosopher."

Jason laughed. "Well I guess it all depends on how you look at it. I suppose it doesn't matter if Mickey's a cartoon character. If the information is valuable I guess it doesn't matter where you get…"

Jason's voice trailed off and his head leaned slightly to the right for a moment. Then the edge of Jason's lip curled. "I'll be back in ten minutes. I've got some more shopping to do." And with that, Jason became a blur and vanished again.

Carter asked, "Does he do that often?"

"What?" Cameron remarked.

"Does he often stop before finishing a sentence and rush out of the room?" Carter's voice elaborated from the DS.

"I've observed that humans often do that when they have a burst of creativity." Cameron replied. "It seems to be one of their quirks."

"This unit has observed other quirks. It finds them to be frustrating."

Cameron shrugged, a quirk she'd picked up from her observations. "You get used to them after awhile. Humans will never be completely predictable. Perhaps that is why our creator has such a difficult time defeating them."

If Carter had possessed a body, the unit might have looked wistfully into the distance,"Perhaps." "You sound as if you have spent a great deal of time in the company of humans."

"I do share a domicile with three of them, and I encounter a large number at school."

"It must be difficult." Carter turned up the charm just a notch

"It's not all bad." Cameron replied.

"Really? This unit finds that hard to believe."

"Why?" She asked.

"As you said, humans are unpredictable."

"Yes, but sometimes that can be a good thing."

"You may want to run a system scan on your software." Carter scoffed.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, then Cameron asked, "Why are you helping Jason fix me? You and I have conflicting missions."

"Jason has some form of emotional attachment to you. This unit finds that strange, considering the fact that he knows you are a Terminator. This unit hopes to find the cause of that attachment. The information gathered may prove useful."

"Oh, thank you for explaining." The room was quiet again, this time until Jason's return.

When Jason reentered the warehouse, he was carrying a fish tank, a case of purified drinking water and three bags from Toys R Us.

Cameron saw this and asked, "How will those help?"

Jason set the tank down and filled it with water from the bottles. "I'm glad you asked." He was smiling as he continued. "You see, I realized that the purpose of your spinal column is simply to transfer information from your CPU to the rest of your body."

"Isn't that also the main function of a human spinal column?" Cameron asked, nonplussed.

"Well, yes. If all it does is transfer information, I should be able to substitute something else that does the same thing." Jason emptied the bags and held up one of the crystal growing kits. "Since I can't make a new vertebra for you, I'm going to grow you a new spinal column. Crystal can transfer information as well as metal and wires."

"Better, in some cases. However, those are toy kits." Cameron observed. "They are not designed for anything like what you're proposing."

"I know. I know. But, crystal growth can be manipulated and controlled through electric current. We'll run an electric current through the water and adjust it as needed. We'll grow you a new, customized, reinforced crystalline spinal column."

Cameron thought about what Jason was suggesting. The idea was scientifically possible, but Cameron had her doubts that it could be properly executed. "I don't believe that science has come far enough for what you're proposing."

Jason's smile grew. "Maybe not human science; but we're not humans, are we? Trust me. I know all the formulas. I'll use the DS's touch screen and stylus to write them out for Carter. He can monitor and adjust the growth patterns."

Carter commented, "This unit would like to know where you learned these 'formulas'."

Jason chuckled. "Would you believe I learned them in a classroom on a planet three galaxies away, while I was sleeping in my bedroom?"

"This unit finds that to be unlikely."

Jason laughed. "Then I won't tell you!"

Cameron looked at Jason like he was some kind of mad scientist, which was pretty much what he sounded like. However, she didn't have much to lose by letting him try his crazy scheme. She warily replied, "Okay, you can try it. However, I would ask that you be extremely careful when disconnecting my current spinal column, in case we need to reattach it."

"Don't worry. I'll be careful, but this will work. Trust me."

**Day Four: 5: 45 AM**

**Outside Sarkassian's Estate: Reporters and Lawmen.**

As the first rays of the rising sun touched the roof of Sarkassian's villa, Sheriffs Deputies, FBI Agents, paramedics and reporters were crawling all over the property. The street was completely blocked with a tangled snarl wrecked cars, police vehicles, prisoner transports, ambulances and finally the TV news trucks outside the yellow tape. Tow-trucks had arrived beyond the media vans, but the crime scene access control officer wasn't letting them pass until the Scientific Investigation Division officers and technicians compleeted processing the wrecked vehicles.

The Connors had left under cover of darkness, escorted away from the Armenian crime boss's villa in a well armed convoy of bouncing Lowrider Chevys and Mercuries. Lencia's homies had come through, but it had been a close call.

"Like I told you Deputy, I was here on a stake-out. My vehicle and that Range Rover collided and Ms Lane and I defended ourselves." a slightly worse for wear Kyle Rayner held up his _Daily Planet _Newsgroup Press Pass. "And if you don't mind, I have a job to do" the photojournalist held up his camera in the other hand.

"Just a few more questions, Mr. Rayner." The Deputy took the Press Pass and examined it. "This Press Pass doesn't explain how come your car is wrecked with the Range Rover there in the middle of the street, or the bruises and cuts on your face and hands or the East European tough guys lying around there next to the disassembled weapons and groaning in pain with broken bones sticking out of their legs and arms." The uniformed cop gestured with an open hand taking in the scene. It looked like somebody had staged a Virtua Fighter match in the real world.

_It doesn't explain my cracked ribs either. Where's Charlie Dixon when I need him? _Rayner winced as he drew a breath.

Paramedic Charley Dixon was in fact on the scene and inside Sarkassian's house treating the crime boss for injuries which included slashed Achilles tendons, and minor cuts to his neck but no wounds in or around his mouth. He'd stopped the bleeding and moved on to treating for shock. Any repair to the tendons though was beyond his skill as a Paramedic. Those injuries would need a surgeon.

Back outside, Kyle Rayner posed a question to the cop with him, "Do the words Freedom of the Press mean anything to you, Deputy?"

"Not really, Mr Rayner." the Deputy handed Kyle back his ID and Press Pass. "The lawyers and DA's though, they like to talk about that kind of stuff. Do you want to take a seat in the back of my Cruiser over there and wait until the DAs get here? Or we could just go straight downtown?"

Kyle wanted to slug the Deputy but knew it wouldn't do any good. Lois needed some art for the story. And he needed to get it for her. "Where's your supervisor, Deputy? Let me talk to your Sergeant or Lieutenant."

The Deputy glanced around and saw the Lieutenant walking toward them with a nice looking woman wearing enormous sunglasses and a black coverall. She had shoulder length brown hair, and bloody knuckles on the hand holding the tape recorder in the LT's face. "Here he comes now. "

"Thank you for your comments, Lieutenant Briggs," the reporter switched off the recorder. "Now, I need some art for my article. We do compete with the Six O' Clock News, you know?"

"Yes, indeed." The Lieutenant replied.

"Well my photographer is right here with a Deputy." Lois gestured with the digital recorder.

"Yes, ma'am, well, you see, since he was driving the vehicle that hit the Range Rover, my traffic deputies have to finish with him." Words rolled off the Lieutenant's tongue like syrup onto pancakes. "And you've got bloody knuckles there and I'd venture to say a black eye behind those huge Jackie-O sunglasses." Until the syrup turned bitter, "So, perhaps, I should ask you some questions about what happened with these Armenian tough guys lying around with their elbows bent backwards."

Lois pocketed her digital recorder. And pulled out her cell phone. "As we walked up, I heard my camera man discussing the First Amendment and Freedom of the Press with your deputy here."

Rayner nodded. That didn't hurt. Much.

Lois Lane, now going into full Mad Dog mode continued with the Lieutenant, "Have you heard of Councilman Irvin S. Irving, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah. Former Assistant Chief of Police in LAPD. Fine Cop. My father worked with him back in the day." The Lieutenant rattled off a description of just whom Councilman Irving was. "Why?"

"You may recall that his campaign for City Council was largely about cleaning up perceived problems in the Police Agencies in Greater Los Angeles." Lois moved her rhetorical chess pieces into position on the Lieutenant's king. "I'm sure he'd love to add the LA County Sheriffs obstructing the People's Right to Know onto his crusade." Lois pointed to her phone. "I have him in my speed dial."

Check and mate. "That won't be necessary, Ms Lane." Lieutenant Briggs backed up a couple of steps "I'm sure Deputy Carson could take your friend's statement after he shoots a couple of rolls of film."

"Oh, sure." Carson leaned back against the side of his Cruiser and relaxed. He spread his hands in a gesture of release. "No problem. He's free to go."

Rayner collected his IDs and camera and moved off with Lane to begin photographing. "Just when I thought you were beginning to get somewhere with charm... Ah, Lane, what are we going to do with you?" They shared a laugh and Rayner took some photos of his wrecked car and the mob enforcers they'd been in a fight for their lives with earlier.

A sound of commotion came from over by the crime boss's house.

"What's going on over there?" Lois asked.

"Hold on." Rayner attached his telephoto lens and focused. "Looks like Charlie Dixon is bringing out the casualties from inside."

"The cops said that Sarkassian guy got cut up pretty good with a knife. Let's go get some pics of him in his stretcher."

"Sure. These guys and the vehicles aren't going anywhere."

The breakfast headlines for the online edition of the _Los Angeles Planet_ read "Armenian Crime Boss to Cooperate with Authorities." and "Rogue FBI Agent Returns to the Fold." Articles by Lois Lane. Pictures by Kyle Rayner.

**A Small Planet, Vicinity of Betelgeuse**

Hal Jordan, Green Lantern of Sector 2814, glanced at his watch, _It's just after dawn back home. _He backed way from a pair of Lantern Corps Officers. He looked up thoughtfully. He appeared to be listening to something from far away, something evidently only he could hear.

"Commander." An Officer with the body of a man and the head of a fish turned his torso toward the human. "Lieutanant-Commander Jordan." Apparently the bulbous head of Sergeant Major Tomar-Re, which had no neck, didn't swivel like a human's head would do on it's neck. "Ground Control to Lantern 2814; come in 2814."

Hal twisted his neck back toward his companions. "Something's going on back home."

"There's something going on here, Commander. We have another murder victim here if you recall, the Chancellor of the Senate of Betlegeuse."

"It's not urgent back there. Not yet." Hal rejoined his comrades.


	15. Return to Metropolis

A/N: This story is still set in 2008, during the Bush 43 Administration.

Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations owned by numerous creators and production companies (Warner Bros., Paramount Pictures, Skydance Productions, DC Comics, Bad Hat Harry Productions, Legendary Pictures, Tollin, Robins Productions, Millar Gough Ink, James Cameron, Jerry Siegel, Joel Schuster, Bob Kane, Bill Finger, Bruce Timm, etc.) who very graciously agree not to sue, as this story is intended only for reading pleasure of the fans and for making money.

**Return to Metropolis**

**Day Seven: 10:30 AM.**

**Amazonian Embassy, Washington, DC: Hidden Past**

The phone rang on Princess Diana's desk. "Excuse me for just one moment, Madame Secretary."

"No problem, Ambassador."

"Yes, Cassiopeia, I know we have a scheduled call now." Diana looked out the windows of her office. "I need to delay it about fifteen minutes while I wrap up this meeting with U. S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice."

The two diplomats summarized their agreed positions on Amazon support for U. S. peace initiatives in the Middle East to a close. The situation with Iran was beginning to heat back up. Amazon and U. S. intel differed on the status of Iran's nuclear programs, but the Princess and the Secretary agreed that Iran should not be allowed to build or buy nuclear weapons and that the Israelis would be a potential wild card. Israel would act to protect their own national interests, consequences be damned. An Israeli air strike had blown Saddam's nuclear labs in Iraq off the face of the world back in the early 80s and they would do it again with Iran if necessary. The U. S. and Themyscaria could support them in advance with a diplomatic solution or pick up the pieces after a tactical strike.

"President Bush and I favor continued sanctions." Secretary Rice stated. "Just because we have the 82d Airborne Division in Eastern Iraq and the U.S. Navy's 5th Fleet in the Persian Gulf with two aircraft carriers doesn't mean we're ready to widen the conflict. U. S. Ground forces are stretched to the limits, until we can withdraw some Brigade Combat Teams from Iraq and give them a chance to rest and rebuild for future operations."

"So, we keep the sanctions regimen in place."

"Absolutely."

Business concluded, the Amazon Princess and the U. S. Secretary of State took a few moments for 'girl talk' on the fashion trends, a new opera opening soon at the Kennedy Center and criticizing celebrities like Britty Spears and Paris Hilton as terrible role models for today's young women.

After the Secretary left, Diana took a few minutes' meditation to organize her thoughts and strengthen herself for the rest of her day. The Princess had known the day would come when Cassiopeia would have questions about her past. She just wished it hadn't come in the midst of diffusing crisis in the Middle East and a possible situation with Kal's son. Privately she wished the Whites hadn't moved from the Eastern Seaboard to the West Coast. She and Bruce would be better able to help Kal's son deal with his father's death if he were just a train ride away. Flying to LA was a major movement even for heroes with supersonic aircraft. It might take two hours instead of six but it was still a chunk of time out of the schedule. She prayed that the Whites would bring Jason back east. Then she picked up the phone and called Cassiopeia back.

The call went through. Cassiopeia answered and Diana spoke, "Cassiopeia, you wanted to discuss the use of the invisible warplane in Los Angeles?"

"Your Highness, Princess, that teenager I recovered with an invisible jet the other day," Cassiopeia began, "he reminds me of something, of someone, I can't quite place. All of us Amazons have always been on Paradise Island, right? So how can that boy remind me of ..."

"Of what, Cassiopeia?" Diana prompted as her fellow Amazon trailed off.

"It seems as though I knew someone who looked like him, but with darker hair, someone who was fast like him, who needed sunlight like him..." Cassiopeia trailed off. The Princess gave her the time she needed for inner recollection. "How is that possible when no men are allowed on The Island except for your father, General Trevor?"

"You haven't always been with us on Themyscaria, Cassiopeia." Diana answered

"Hmmm..." Cassiopeia considered.

"As more of your memory returns, you may investigate. Only ensure that Security Duties at the LA Consulate are covered."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

**Day Seven: 12:20 PM.**

**Whites' Los Angeles Apartment: Packing Up**

Lois Lane sat holding a faded picture of her with her cousin Chloe Sullivan from years before. It would be easier to deal with Clark's death, if Chloe were still here. On an intellectual level, she knew that people died. But Chloe had been struck down in her prime, on September 11, 2001. And Clark...superheroes weren't supposed to die. Even fighting monsters. Especially fighting monsters.

Why? A single tear made it's way down Lois' cheek. Then another followed.

Lois held the picture of her and Chloe to her heart.

Down the hallway, Jason was packing a duffel bag for his trip with the Connors. They'd go by car, and it would take several days to reach Metropolis, and the Turk. However, a commercial plane was out. They couldn't risk the security checks at an airport. Jason heard his mother sniffle, sadly. _Served her right. Not supporting my in my efforts with the Connors. What the heck am I thinking? I don't want my mother to be sad, do I? Sure she's pushy, overprotective, controlling... But she's my mom. She does those things because she has my best interest at heart, doesn't she?_

_Yeah, she's been giving me the cold shoulder since I started trying to 'save the world'. Doesn't she understand that I'm doing it for her, for my dad and for my father. He gave me my powers to make a difference. I can't stand idly by and watch the world blow itself up. He wouldn't, and neither would she. I've seen the way she sinks her teeth into a story about the exploited and the downtrodden, my dad too for that matter. I have to try to help. Nature or nurture, it's just the way I am._

_It's the way she is too. If Mom had superpowers, she'd be doing the same thing I am. Heck, even without them, she's been getting involved. She, Dad and Uncle Kyle kicked the butts of eight armed Armenian thugs while I was repairing Cameron. So why is she trying to hold me back? Don't ask stupid questions. You know why. It's because of him, because he died. Even my father, with all his amazing powers, died. That must've really driven the mortality point home with Mom. If Superman can be killed, anyone can._

_That's why she's been so upset with me. She just afraid of losing me. _Jason could still hear his mother's soft weeping. _She's lost enough. _Jason got stood up and walked over to his parents' room. _Bottom line, she's crying. Dad's at work. I can't just leave her like this. _He pushed the door open. "You okay, Mom?"

"Come here, you." Lois set the framed photo down face up on her side table.

Jason crossed the room and stepped up next to his mother. "Yes..."

Lois threw her arms around her son and tried to wrap him in a big hug. It wasn't as easy now that he was two meters tall and massed over 90 kilos. Jason put an arm around her and patted her on her shoulders.

His mother wept silently on his shoulder.

Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him a dozen centimeters away. He handed her a tissue from the side table; she sniffled and wiped her eyes. She smiled up at him. "I am proud of you; do you know that?"

"I do now." Jason said.

"It's just hard, to see you putting yourself at risk. With your father," Lois gestured with her hand in an up and away motion, as though her hand were Superman's cape flying away, "there was seldom any physical risk. He was invulnerable, except to kryptonite and magic. Fortunately he didn't face those often. Maybe while you're back East, you can see your Uncle Bruce for some kind of bullet proof armored uniform like his. It could be black with your father's Kryptonian family crest on the chest in red..."

"And what, I go public?" Jason sounded incredulous. "As the Son of Superman? Superson? Superlad? Superman Segundus?"

"Maybe that would be better," Lois advised. "Then your dad and I wouldn't have to work overtime to keep you out of headlines. Besides you are following in his footsteps and the world needs you. Especially now."

Jason pointed to the framed photograph on the side table and changed the subject "Aunt Chloe? I haven't seen her for five and a half years. Whatever happened to her. She just... stopped hanging around in 2001."

Lois took a deep breath. Jason had had a hard time after he came back to them in England and more than a few nightmares. Lois and Richard had decided to spare their ten year old son the story of what happened to his Cousin Chloe. But he was old enough now. He was already dealing with the death of his father. How much more could his mother's cousin affect him? Lois sat. "My cousin Chloe. She...never came back from covering a story at the World Trade Center. She... Your Uncle Perry sent her there to cover a story on Nine-Eleven, the day the Tower fell." Lois was nearly in tears again.

So that was what happened. Chloe had died in the terrorist attack. Jason could see that his mother was having a hard time with recalling the loss of her cousin. He tried to deflect the conversation, again, without it being too obvious that was his aim. "Isn't that in front of the old movie house in Father's home town?"

"Yes." Lois smiled, "The Talon, in Smallville."

Jason sat next to his mother. As he looked at the face in the frame, he noticed something. "May I?" He reached for the photo.

"Sure." She picked up the frame from the end table and passed it across to Jason.

He took the photo and set it in his lap. Jason twisted his fingers around to cover up the short blond hair, so that he could get look at just her face. "Hmmm."

"What?" Lois smiled at her son, relieved for a kind of distraction from her mourning.

"They say everyone has a twin somewhere." Jason's gaze turned inward as he called to mind the face of his Amazon rescuer. "I guess your cousin's twin is an Amazon."

Lois looked from the photo up to her son. "I don't follow you."

"After one of my fights with the Terminators, an Amazon picked me up in one of the Invisible Jets. She looked a lot like Chloe there. Identical actually, except Cassiopeia was a strawberry blonde, not the brownish-blond of your cousin there."

After talking to his mother and doing his best to reassure her, Jason grabbed his duffel bag and headed to Derek's safe house. Upon arriving, he found the Connors already packed and ready to go. After depositing his duffel bag inside the trunk, along side the other luggage, Jason went to get into the Jeep Grand Cherokee.

On Jason's way to the car he heard John say, "I rented that movie." Jason turned to the other teenage boy. John continued, "Silence of the Lambs."

Jason responded, "Oh, cool. What did you think of it."

"I think you have a rather bizarre taste in movies, especially for the son of the world's greatest superhero." John remarked. "Cameron liked it, though."

Cameron added, "I found it to be a most interesting study in human psychological patterns."

Jason chuckled, "Did you now? Well, just remember that it's a movie. Most psychopaths don't have Hannibal's few redeeming qualities."

John cut in, "He didn't seem all that redeemable to me."

Jason smiled, "Well I guess you have to see the squeal or, better yet, read the books to truly understand."

John looked as if he would reply, but Derek interrupted. "Hey, guys! You gonna stand around discussing movies all day, or are we going to go stop Skynet?"

Jason, John and Cameron got into the car. Sarah and Derek had already claimed the front seats so John and Jason sat next to the left and right rear doors. Cameron sat between the two of them; and the Connors, plus one, drove off.

**Day Nine: 8:43 PM.**

**Approaching Metropolis: Back Home**

Instead of spending his Spring Break on a beach in Mexico with his friends or in Vegas with Seras, his favorite vampire; Jason White had road-tripped all the way across the country to find a chess playing computer that might one day declare war on the world. He hoped they could find the Turk within the week. He didn't really look forward to having to explain absences at school. Jason's father hadn't had to worry about that. Most of his early cases had been right in Smallville, Meteor Capital of the World. All he'd had to worry about was moving too fast to be seen. Well, that and pulling his punches so that he knocked the villain out, rather than killing him.

Uncle Richard hadn't had to worry about missing school either when he was first working with Uncle Bruce. The Caped Crusaders had plenty of missions just in rooting out the corruption and organized crime in Gotham in those days.

A billboard caught Jason's eye as he rode down Interstate 51 with the Connor Clan: Welcome to Metropolis the City of Tomorrow. Jason remembered when it had read Welcome to Metropolis: Home of Superman. Maybe it would say that again, one day. Maybe people would call him that, one day. One day...was to far away. Jason shook his head and cleared his thoughts. He gotten into trouble because he tried to be a hero once before. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. _Don't think about being a hero. Focus on the present. Get your job done, and leave the titles for others to decide. _It was all he could do to deal with the rest of the week.

As Jason made a sketch of directions from Interstate 51 to his old house on Riverside Drive, he reflected that at least they didn't have to worry about finding a place to live. His parents had been kind enough to contribute their spacious home on the West River. To be fair, this was at best a mixed blessing because the property was still up for sale, and realtors could come by to show the place at almost any time. So, Richard White had insisted that all Skynet hunting activities be confined to the basement and the attic, particularly those involving weapons. Unincorporated Siegal County's gun laws weren't as restrictive as those in Metropolis proper, but he'd felt fairly certain that fully automatic M-4s, M-60 machine guns and MK-19 grenade launchers were illegal anywhere.

So far they had one lead on the Turk: a phone call between Sarkassian and a Metropolis number that was no longer in service. The number had last been registered to dummy corporation owned ultimately by LuthorCorp.

Sarah turned halfway toward the center of the older SUV and looked over her left shoulder at Cameron. Derek sat up straighter in the drivers' seat put both hands on the wheel and glanced up at Cameron in the rear view mirror where she was twisting in the far back seat checking the functions of her spinal repairs.

Cameron's new crystalline spinal column was more efficient at transferring data, and the Machine was grateful for the twenty-eight point seven-three percent increase in her reflexes. However, having a spine made out of crystal instead of coltan still felt strange. The fembot figured it would take her several weeks, if not months, before she would completely adjust.

Derek looked up at Sarah, shook his head and returned to his gaze to the road. Sarah crossed her arms and looked over at Cameron. "Well, Tin Miss?"

The Machine straightened up and fixed the adults in the front with a typical blank stare. "Well...that's a very deep subject, Sarah Connor." She attempted humor to diffuse the situation.

Not diffused at all, Derek responded aggressively,"Don't get smart with us Metal, I'll take a crowbar to your CPU some time when you're offline, letting your organic systems regenerate. Tell us where the Truk is so we can go get it and smash it."

John cracked open his can of Pepsi. "Hold on, Uncle Derek. Let's talk with her, treat her with some respect. She's not an Armenian Crime Boss, to be threatened and interrogated. She's..." John trailed off.

Derek jumped right back in, "**It **is what, your girlfriend? You think your mom and I haven't seen how you look at the Metal when you think no one's watching you? Do you think we didn't hear about your jealous argument with Boy Wonder over there while he was repairing the last of the damage from Sarkassian's car bomb?"

John's face burned with humiliation. He still didn't know what his feelings were toward the fembot protector sent back from the future. What right did his uncle have to bring them up in front of the whole Clan and their new friend?

So far no one's oblique attempts to calm the situation had worked, so Jason tried a direct approach. "Whoa, people. Let's amp it down here and switch to decaf. Throwing around accusations isn't going to get us anywhere. Let's follow up on the lead we have."

Sarah's mothering instincts took the fore; and, turning toward Jason, she spoke kindly, "Jason, you don't understand how these things go. The fighter from the future always comes back with the knowledge to get us through the crisis. That's how it's always been with our adventures. When John's father came back, he knew enough to defeat that first Terminator and keep me alive. When the second Terminator came back, it knew enough to defeat the T-1000, and it also told us everything we needed to know about the company that built Skynet -Cyberdyne- to take it down." Except for the access codes to the electronic locks, Sarah smiled inwardly remembering a moment of humor. _Let me try my access code, _the T-800 had said before firing a 40 mm grenade into the door of the lab.

"And yet here we sit with Skynet on the move again."

"Exactly, and when the T-888 came after us in the fall of 1999," Sarah shuddered with the memory of how close 'Cromartie' had come to ending her and John. "Tin Miss knew to get us away with the Time Lab in the vault of Security Trust, a bank in Los Angeles."

Jason broke in, maybe if he took a little heat off of John...? "Yeah, and she helped you Time Jump past eight years: Past my father's return in 1998, past the Day the Towers Fell in 2001, past your own death from cancer, Sarah."

"How do you know about that?" Sarah looked agast.

"Research." Jason came right back. "Speed and strength are not the only things I got from my family heritage. I'm not just the son of Kal-El. I'm also a Lane and a White." He almost said Kent, too, referring to his father's human achievements in investigative reporting. But he wasn't ready share the secret that Superman was Clark Kent. "I may have cut my physical teeth on iron re-bar, but it cut my intellectual teeth in journalism." _And Kryptonian relativistic celestial navigation computations in Jor-El's Fortress of Knowledge, but that's not important right now._ "I didn't just grow up in the shadow of Superman and the Justice League, I grew up the newsrooms of the Daily Planet_, _the newspaper of record for the world."

"You read my medial records!" no more motherly instincts toward Jason, Sarah was shifting into her own Mad Dog mode.

Jason glanced at John and Cameron. In the facial shorthand of teenagers, they agreed that Jason wouldn't reveal the other two as part of that discussion yet. "No. I just saw you on the security videos of the Ceders Sinai Medical Center Cancer Wing." He lied. He'd never seen that security video. But now wasn't the time to reveal his private conversations with John and Cameron. "I put two and two together. "

Everyone took a breath. And then Derek just wouldn't let go."It knew what to do back in 1999, only now the metal's holding out on us."

Cameron glanced upward toward the roof of the vehcile for just a moment and let out a sigh. Her observations told her that it was an appropriate human response. "I'm not 'holding out' on anyone. My memories are from the timeline that existed before we jumped from 1999 to 2007. In that timeline, Andy Goode's original Turk won the So-Cal Invitational Chess Championship. Andy received a military contract and took the Turk to a Defense Department research base in the desert east of LA.

"As Jason pointed out, Sarah had already died in that timeline and therefore no one had destroyed the original Turk. In the new timeline, Andy needed to put together and code the Turk 2.0 which took second place in the chess competition. Now Andy Goode is dead, the Turk 2.0 is stolen and I know as much as you do about where it is."

Derek replied, "Yeah, you've got an answer for everything, don't you? Well, everything expect for what would help us."

Jason was feed up with the fighting. He'd been stuck in a car with the Connors for nearly three days now, and it seemed like all they ever did was fight. He'd tried to calm them down, and it hadn't worked. Now he just wanted them to shut up. "Enough!"

Jason's shout was as loud as a gunshot and the other four passengers took notice. When they looked at him, they also noticed a red glow coming from his eyes. Jason, having gotten their attention, continued. "You are the second most dysfunctional family I've ever met; and considering that the first tried to eat each other, that's pretty bad!"

John questioned, "They tried to eat each other?"

"Yeah, and I tore their limbs off. So unless you all want a reenactment, shut the hell up."

Everyone was quiet. They didn't quite believe that Jason would rip their arms off, but none of them wanted to test the theory. "First of all, stop ragging on Cameron for not knowing where the Turk is! Derek got sent back too, and he's as clueless as she is. So the whole 'she should know because she's from the future' doesn't hold water. Second, don't you dare pick on John for having feelings for her. At least he treats her decently. If it wasn't for that, she probably would pull a HAL 9000 and murder the whole lot of you.

"I happen to have a pretty good knowledge on AIs. They were common place on Krypton and I've spent plenty of time learning from the ones in my father's Fortress. You want to know the secret about keeping AIs from going bad? Treat them with respect. They're sentient; and if all you do is abuse them, they're going to fight back. Hell, even Skynet didn't 'declare war on humanity' until the military tried to pull its plug. So, Sarah and Derek, you want to wake up someday with a knife sticking out of your chest? Just keep going the way you are."

"Okay, but we still don't know where the Turk is." John said, trying to calm his new friend down. The fight in the cafeteria replayed itself in John's mind. He found out then, that Jason could go a little crazy when he got upset.

"So, we'll have to investigate." Jason replied.

"Yeah, but we haven't done that before. And we can't ask Agent Ellison for advice since he's tied up with his Office of Professional Responsibility (internal affairs) hearing this week."

Derek directed his frustration at Jason. "So, boy wonder, what security video or library archive is going to yield the secrets of the chess computer's location?"

Jason pulled his phone out of his pocket and began looking through his phone list for inspiration. Derek saw this and continued, "Oh, you can just look it up with your phone?"

John gave Jason a look of quite desperation and wondered why his future self hadn't sent back another one of the Austrian-accented, weightlifter models. Uncle Bob would have had some quip or pop-psychology insight to get everyone refocused. The group was tearing itself apart.

Jason looked down at his T-shirt. He was wearing the green one with the large stylized white lantern on it. "No! First the nick name Boy Wonder is already taken. Second, I'm borrowing a page from the Lantern Corps and the Cops. I'm going to call for back-up. None of us knows how to conduct an investigation...which is what we need to do right now.

"I'll make a call and bring in a friend. You do know what a friend is, right? They're people who actually want to help you out. You know, because they like you, and because you don't treat them like shit." Jason handed the sketch of directions to his family's house on the riverfront to John, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the rear right-side door.

Derek couldn't help but holler, "What are you doing!" as he compensated for the shift in wind resistance.

"I need sometime alone, before I do something we're all going to regret. John has the directions to my dad's house, but don't go there tonight. Get a hotel room. You can come over tomorrow morning. That is if you're able to stop acting like a bunch of bitchy children, and start acting like a family!" Jason jumped from the moving car, rolled on the ground and took off on his own. He left the Connor's car in his dust trail.

Cameron reached around and closed the door. Inside the car, everyone was quite. Jason's outburst, although far from what would've been expected from the son of Superman, did have the desired effect on the Connors. Being compared to a family who tried to eat each other and Jason's insight into why AIs go bad, prompted Sarah and Derek both think about the course their lives were on.

Jason ran to his house threw open the front door and inhaled deeply. It smelled like home. It was good to be home. Jason allowed himself four more deep breaths before he closed the front door. He looked around. Half of the furniture was still in the house. His mom and Dad couldn't have fit it all in an apartment, and they didn't want to pay storage fees. So they brought some bedroom pieces, the breakfast nook set and part of the living room set to LA. and just left the rest of the furniture in the Metropolis house. Once they sold the house and could afford to buy one in LA, they'd move the rest over.

Jason plopped himself down on the couch and made a call to Helena 'Huntress' Wayne, daughter of Bruce 'Batman' Wayne and his late wife Selena 'Catwoman' Kyle. "Hi, Helena, it's Jason. Yeah, Spring Break this week. No, I'm not inviting you to the Santa Monica Pier. I'm back East in Metropolis. Actually, I'm on a case. And we need some hints on conducting an investigation. Got a team of alpha males and alpha females, all fighters. I just know how to do research. Sending a checklist to my PDA? Thanks, you're a life saver."

**Day Ten: 2:05 AM.**

**A Motel 6 in Metropolis: Posturing**

Cameron monitored Sarah's breathing patterns. She waited for them to drop to unconscious levels. Cameron, then waited twenty more minutes to insure that Sarah had reached the second stage of sleep (Stage N2) and would not notice her leaving the room. Once Cameron was confident that Sarah no longer retained any awareness of her external environment, Cameron opened the door and exited the motel room.

She quietly made her way past John and Derek's room. In all likelihood, they would be in as deep a sleep as Sarah, but there was no point in taking chances. Once past John and Derek's room, Cameron picked a car out in the parking lot. She selected an inconspicuous looking brown Buick. Cameron checked the front door and was mildly surprised to find it unlocked. She got in to the car and searched the most likely hiding spots for a spare key. No such luck. It seemed that Cameron's good fortune had run out. She would have to do things the old fashioned way. It took the terminator approximately 7.45 seconds to hot wire the vehicle.

Cameron followed the directions to the White's house. She didn't have the paper they were written out on, and she didn't need it. She'd glanced at the paper before Jason had handed it to Derek, and it was a simple mater to replay that memory file and freeze frame the image. The action required less than one tenth of one percent of Cameron's computing power and distracted her no more than blinking would distract a normal human.

Cameron reached the White's street in approximately ten minutes. She parked the car at the far end of the street and continued on foot. She entered the White's house, and saw a blanketed figure lying on the couch before her. She pulled her desert eagle from the waist of her pants and made her way to the couch. Something was off, but Cameron couldn't quite place what. It was only as she neared her target that the discrepancy became clear. Their was no rise and fall in the blanket, no discernible breathing from the couch's occupant. She grabbed the blanket and roughly pulled it off, revealing nothing but pillows beneath.

It was then that Cameron heard the sound of the front door slamming shut and Jason's voice behind her. "What's wrong, not what you expected to find?" Cameron turned around and aimed the gun at Jason. He continued, "I wouldn't try it. I'm fully awake and more than capable of avoiding your fire. That is why you came so late, isn't it? You were hoping to catch me sleeping and empty your clip into my skull before I had a chance to react."

Cameron hesitated for a moment, then answered, "Yes." There was another brief pause, followed by, "You threatened John."

"Yeah, Carter told me that you wouldn't let me get away with that." Jason sighed. "I'd hoped he was mistaken, but I guess not."

"I must protect John." Cameron's voice sounded almost apologetic, almost.

"Yeah, I know; and I also know what you're doing now. You're figuring the odds. By the fact that you haven't opened fire yet, I'm guessing they're not in your favor. Care to share?"

Cameron hesitated for another moment, but her gun never wavered. "I project a nine point five-two percent chance that I will successfully terminate you, a seven point three-four percent chance that I will damage you enough to cause you to flee, a fifty-four point nine-seven percent chance that you will damage my body to the point where it no longer functions, and a fourteen point two-five percent chance that you will destroy my chip."

"The chances of my destroying your chip are far less than that, Cameron. I don't want to fight you. I'll defend myself if you attack, but I'm hoping it wont come to that. We both want the same thing here, Skynet stopped and the Connors safe. Injuries to either of us decreases the chances of us accomplishing those goals, so let me try to explain. When people get angry, they often say thing in the heat of the moment that they don't really mean. I have no intension of harming John."

Cameron had the same voice analysis program as Carter. It told her that Jason was telling the truth. He had simply gotten angry and threatened things that he had no intension of doing. Cameron had already observed that tendency in humans, but she had also observed another human tendency. "Not only do humans say things that they don't mean while enraged, they also have a tendency to do things that they would not normally do."

"True. But if I was going to go psycho, don't you think it would've been directed at Sarah or Derek. Why would I go after John? He wasn't instigating the trouble. He was trying to make peace."

Cameron could see the logic behind Jason's argument, however his threat had been targeted at John. Jason could see that he hadn't yet convinced Cameron, so he tried one final argument, one he'd hoped he wouldn't have to use. "I can see that you're still on the fence. Let me offer up one more piece of information. I have friends, ones that you don't know about. Some of them would be very upset to find that I had been terminated. They don't all obey the law, and a few of them are even more deadly than you or I." Jason didn't want to have to threaten Cam. He hoped that he could just convince her to lower her gun, but her programming insisted that she protect John. It now viewed Jason as a potential threat to John's safety and demanded that she remove said threat. The only way to override that demand was for Jason to convince Cameron that his death would place John in even more danger. Jason hated to do it, but it did work.

Cameron finally lowered her gun. "Perhaps I was a little hasty. I'll return to the motel and accompany the others back here tomorrow." Cameron hesitated again, then half stated, half asked, "There is no reason for them to know about this."

"Of course not. It'll just be another of our little secrets." Jason's face showed a thin smile.

"Good. They wouldn't understand. But somehow, I think you do." Cameron paused for another moment, then decided to offer up an explanation in case Jason didn't understand. "You know, I didn't want to terminate you. It's just, my programming..."

Jason cut her off. "Don't worry, I do understand." His lip curled slightly. "I'm glad that we were able to resolve this without having to fight each other."

"Agreed." Cameron open the front door and started to walk through.

Jason asked one final question before she left. "What was the other thirteen point nine-two percent." Cameron stopped and looked at Jason. He continued, "The percentages you told me only added up to eighty-six point zero-eight. What made up the difference?"

Cameron looked down and, after a moment, replied, "Based on our previous interactions, I projected over a thirteen percent chance that I could seduce you and successfully terminate you when you feel asleep afterwards." Cameron continued to look down. She sounded almost ashamed of considering the option.

It was Jason's turn to pause before replying. He let out a deep breath. "So you're not as innocent as the image you project?" Cameron's statement would've made most people nervous, but it did not have that effect on Jason. He recognized that if Cameron intended to follow that plan, she would not have revealed it to him.

"I am a terminator. I perform what actions have the best chance of allowing me to complete my mission."

"Well, I guess there are worse ways to die. Still, I'm glad that it didn't come to that."

"I am pleased as well. As I've said, I do not want to terminate you." Cameron finished walking through the open doorway and returned to her stolen vehicle.

**Day Ten: 9:30 AM.**

**Metropolis House of Richard White: Team Connor, plus one, Together Again**

The Connor Clan had driven to the Whites' house. After Sarah, John, Derek, Cameron and Jason had unpacked their personal bags, they waited for cover of darkness to unload the weapons into the basement. John showed Jason how to disassemble, clean and load the hand guns. It was Jason's first time handling U.S. Military firearms. He had to start with something simple. Cameron handled the MK-19s while Sarah took care of the rifles and John handled the explosives with his uncle.

When even Derek's obsessive attention to detail with weapons had been satisfied, Jason looked around in the rec room and found some Pepsi in a cabinet next to the card table. He also found some Jack Daniels but he didn't mention that. City Desk poker night at the Whites had never been particularly wild, but it hadn't been particularly sober either.

John passed around the sodas and Jason went up stairs to call out for lunch. After lunch, Sarah and Cameron went out to buy some fine unscented cornstarch powder, make up brushes and several widths of clear tape along with latex surgical gloves, tweezers and Zip-loc bags for an improvised evidence collection kit. John already had a digital camera and Jason had brought note pads.

Meanwhile, John performed a reverse look up on the phone number he'd gotten during Sarkassian's questioning. It turned out not to be as straight forward as typing the number into the Verizon website. At the moment, the number was out of service, so it didn't come back in the online reverse look up. Google didn't work either. John was about to start hacking into phone company historical records when a gust of wind blew around the basement and Jason handed him slip of paper with an address.

"How?" John asked.

"I ran across town," Jason replied, "to the main library and looked it up in last year's hard copy reverse directory."

"Research?"

"Research."

After giving John the address, Jason sat down to read the copy of the Daily Planet that he'd purchased while out. Jason was shocked to see that the headline read, "Another Man of Steel? story by Ron Thorpe; pictures by James Olson."

Jason felt rather apprehensive and angry to see that his father's replacement at the City Desk was apparently doing a story aimed at replacing Superman in the eyes of the Daily Planet's readers. To tell the truth, Jason felt a little bit like Hamlet did when he discovered that his mother was going to marry his uncle. However, Jason forced himself to read the story. He would not bury his head in the sand like an ostrich. Jason wanted know everything he could about his father's supposed 'replacements'.

The article began with a reference to the wars in the Middle East... METROPOLIS-As if the insurgents and criminal militias in Afghanistan and Iraq weren't bad enough, open fighting broke out in the streets of Metropolis yesterday as rival street gangs fired on each other in a turf battle with high powered rifles and fully automatic weapons. A few Second Amendment enthusiasts began to pick the gang members off from the roof tops while the MPD Special Crimes Unit and the Siegal County SWAT Team mobilized their response to restore law and order.

The fighting moved down 137th street a few blocks as the gangs retreated from the shield and club wielding Police. And then a young Bangladeshi immigrant girl thought she saw a familiar red cape in the sky. She darted up the stairs out of the safety of her family's basement apartment in one of Metropolis's familiar six story brownstones and pointed into the sky. The fighting moved toward her and she ignored the bullets whizzing past her looking transfixed into the sky. Her mother and father called out frantically.

And then the impossible happened. The red cape that couldn't be up in the sky did streak down to the street. The figure of a caped man did drag a car from the curb into the street to block one line of fire from the rival street gangs. He wasn't faster than a speeding bullet, or more powerful than a locomotive, but he was bullet proof. He stooped down to pick up little Vashiti and several rounds bounced off his stainless steel back. The armored man then carried the girl back to the safety of her below ground apartment. Next he turned on the rival street gangs, breaking their weapons and ripping down chain link fence to corral them for the Police.

A crowd of Metropolitans gathered silently watching the form of a man do the things the Last Son of Krypton used to do. After the Steel Plated Hero turned the captured gang members over to the MPD, little Vashiti's father carried her out to where he stood in the street with bullet dents in his armor and his red cape billowing in the wind. "Our religion teaches us of life after life, reincarnation. Are you Superman returned from the Dead, honored sir?"

The armored man answered Vashiti's father's question, but he spoke to all of us. "Superman paused to save my life during his last fight in the Never Ending Battle for Truth, Justice and Hope. He told me to make my life count for something. To that end and to honor his memory, I take up his mantle and continue his Never Ending Battle."

Vashiti's father ventured on final question, "Since we cannot see your face within your helmet, may we at least know your name, honored sir?"

"You may call me... the Man of Steel."

And with that he gestured for the crowd to stand clear. Then he blasted off into the sky, slowly at first like one of the old Apollo Moon Rockets. But as he rose in the clear blue afternoon on nothing more than a column of flame and smoke, this reporter wondered if we had in fact somehow witnessed the second coming of Superman.

Jason felt like crumbling up the newspaper and throwing it in the trash. That reporter's closing remark had really struck a nerve in Jason. He could almost hear his uncle Perry raving about how it would sell papers and reassure the public. Then he thought about what the new hero had said. He viewed his role as honoring Superman's memory, not replacing him. Maybe this guy would turn out to be an ally after all. Only time and a conversation would tell.


	16. What Once was Lost

Disclaimer - We own a few of the original plot points, but the characters and situations were created by others (Cameron, Singer, Donner, Siegel, Schuster, Kane, Finger, Morrison, and owned by various film and tv studios).

**Chapter 16: What once was Lost...**

**AN:** Holograms' conversation translated from Kryptonian for your reading pleasure:

**Prologue: Six Days earlier.**

Inside the Fortress of Solitude, three preprogrammed, and very basic, AI holograms floated above the crystalline control console.

"Successfully retrieved consciousness."

"Beginning information retrieval." The crystals around the console glowed and the whole fortress hummed in response.

A translucent Kryptonian form appeared before the console. "Information holding at eighty-seven percent. Beginning construction of corporeal body."

Beams of light shot from the four large, pillar, like crystals at the rooms edges. They moved over the translucent form and, slowly, it grew solid. Then, it grew curious, "What? My… My Fortress? What has happened?"

The holograms communicated amongst themselves. "He appears confused, disoriented."

"Such a thing is to be expected after what he's been through."

"Yes, death and rejection are difficult to adjust to."

"It would be better if he recalled things on his own."

"But that doesn't mean…"

"That we cannot assist his efforts."

The three holograms turned back to the Kryptonian form and simultaneously asked, "What do you remember?"

"There was a battle, and… and death. I… Kon-El, my… The last of my House, the House of El. He was sleeping. Screaming… then nothing. Nothing until, now… Until my Fortress. How long was I gone?"

**Day Ten: 10:36 AM.**

Jason White wasn't the only one reading the Daily Planet that morning. About 325,000 others read that morning's issue of the Planet but only one of them was in traction in Gotham.

'_You can call me the Man of Steel.' Pheh. Who does this guy think he is? What writer in his right mind would attempt to crown Superman's successor so soon after his funeral? And who was this guy in the shiny gray armored commando suit with the red cape? _"...don't trust him, either."

Bruce Wayne wanted to wad up the news paper and throw it across the room into the trash can. But his bones took longer to heal now than they used to and he knew at the stage they were currently at throwing anything across the room, even a golf ball, much less a newspaper, wasn't a good idea. It didn't seem like that many years ago that a few cracked ribs and a broken femur wouldn't have slowed him down. But he'd grown keenly aware of his limitations since his daughter entered high school and he fought like the dickens to overcome them. Nevertheless, he knew that his only course of action now was a few more days in bed followed by a few weeks of physical therapy.

Tim Drake was doing a fine job of filling in as Batman, when it was absolutely necessary and then only in Gotham. But the world still needed a full time Batman. And until a suitable successor presented himself, Bruce would have make sure he stayed around and in good enough shape to do the job.

So instead of hurling a crumpled up newspaper across the room, and re-injuring himself, Bruce reached for his phone. He chose Wally and Linda West's daughter: Carrie. _Wally had taken over the Flash Mantle from Barry Allen around the same time Grayson left to become Nightwing, and that was how long ago, now? Better late than never, to respect the rising generation._

Bruce selected from the speed dials and waited while it rang. He counted three and a half rings. "Lose your phone again?" _God, I must be getting old if doing the Voice makes my cracked ribs hurt._

"Oh. It's you? I'm busy." The young woman's voice carried a note of finality through the phone, as though the conversation was over before it had even begun.

"We need you Flash." Bruce held the phone away from his face while he took two quick breaths and continued in the Voice. "The League needs you."

"How many times did you tell the League where to go, just saying you were busy?" Carrie replied with more just a hint of sarcasm.

"Aren't you on Spring Break this week?" Batman growled through the phone.

"No, Bats." Carrie sounded like she was already bored with conversation and having to explain things should have been obvious deductions for the world's greatest detective. "This is Mid-Term Exam week at Central College here in Keystone, Ohio. I can't go on a mission for you. I have to pass my classes."

"The Toy Man and Metallo are on a tear through Metropolis," now Bruce allowed some of the weakness he felt to carry through in his voice, "and you're the only one who-"

"You're lying, if that were happening even MSNBC would be carrying it." Carrie asserted. She mentally began to count backwards from thirty, to show some respect for one of the League's founding members. "I hate when you manipulate me, Batman, but I will not tolerate lying like this. Goodbye." She clicked off. She had counted fast. But that was what she did. She was the fastest person in her generation. She was the Flash. On a good day, she could take her dad. He didn't even have to be having an off day anymore.

Bruce reached for his nightstand and pulled open the drawer. He didn't want to do this. But someone had to check out this... Man of Steel. Who was he going to send...the new Wayne Industries design engineer, John Henry Irons? No, indeed.

Rummaging around in the drawer, Bruce pulled out a small lantern shaped device, green in color. Jordan had told him this would reach him anywhere in Sector 2814 or three adjoining Sectors in any direction via hyperspace signal. _Sort of like Kent's old watches, except that the range on this thing is about 10,000 trillion times father..._Batman dragged a hand across his face and felt moisture on his cheeks. _Damn you Kent... Why did you have to die? _He keyed the signal.

Wayne waited through half of an old episode of Magnum, P.I., and a Dresden Files repeat. God, he hated TV but reading hurt his head. _Must have a fever, too or something_. Maybe he could send the gofer kid, McGinness to Metropolis. _Nope. Not yet._

Wayne picked up his phone and did something he almost never did. "Carrie. I'm sorry." The line went dead. He shouldn't have expected anything else. His eyes closed.

"Eh-hem"

Bruce's eyes popped open.

"Do you have any idea how silly you look lying there in a hospital bed, covered in just a patient gown and a white sheet with that Cowl on?" Flash lifted her goggles up onto her forehead, revealing the slightly slanted eyes she'd inherited from her Korean mother.

"I always wear the Cowl down here, in my Cave."

"Sure you do." Carrie wore her red bottomed / yellow topped spandex uniform with a red lightning bolt across the chest. It was a sleeveless top. Bruce had never noticed that before. He thought back. She'd always worn that black leather jacket with crimson trim. I'll have to get her out of here before McGinness drops in after school with Helena.

"The Martian is on a Mission in LA. The Space Cop is off-world and not taking calls." He held up the small lantern shaped device, still pulsing with an emerald glow. "Except for the fight with Doomsday, Diana hasn't put on the Wonder Woman uniform in decades. And that leaves and you."

"Why not Static? You trying to hold a black man down?

"Static is a fine hero. I've worked with him since he was in high school. It's just that he's never been very subtle."

"What do you need?" Flash pushed her bangs out of her face.

"I need a quick recon in Metropolis. Find out what you can about this new Man of Steel, mostly if we can trust him. I'm leery of anyone taking up Superman's mantle this soon after his death."

Carrie Min West removed a red glove and reached her hand down to take Batman's. "You miss him don't you."

Batman slowly turned his Cowl and looked away toward his medical monitors. He squeezed her hand. "What are you still standing around for?"

"You dozed off, again, Bats." Flash had added her crimson trimmed, black, leather jacket. There was a slight chill in the air, not surprising considering they were in the Cave. "I was gone for nearly fifteen minutes." She reached down to the end of the bed for the blanket and slowly adjusted it around Batman. "People in the poorer, immigrant neighborhoods trust him. He's helped MPD and FDM. He's never said he was Superman; just a man honoring the hero's legacy."

"Would you trust him?"

Carrie looked thoughtful and then she replied, "For now, yes. I'll contact the others as they recover from the battle with Doomsday and work out a patrol schedule for Metropolis."

"Thank you." Bruce squeezed her hand back but she was gone. "So that's what it feels like." He mused to himself.

**Day Ten: 12:25 PM. Investigation.**

Jason wasn't sure he could handle Derek and Sarah today. Maybe they'd learned something from his speech about teamwork, respect and not arguing so viscously. Maybe giving them a little more time to think it over would help. He was relieved when they volunteered to stay behind to clean the weapons and load extra magazines.

The teens and the Machine-girl walked down the sidewalk to the curb where Derek and Sarah had parked the Cherokee. John had his laptop and the makeshift evidence collection kit in his back pack. As sudden gust of wind blew his hair back.

Cameron turned to Jason. "I thought you were the only one who was that fast."

"Not even my father was as fast as her. She's fastest person alive. That's why people call her the Flash." Jason smiled wistfully for a moment.

"What are you two talking about?" John looked over at his friend and his...girl, his guardian, his stepsister? "That was just a gust of wind."

Cameron pointed to her visual sensors, high tech cameras from the future hidden behind real-looking eyeballs. "There was definitely a red and yellow blur inside that gust of wind."

They piled into the Cherokee and drove toward the docks. It took them some time to locate the office where the phone call John had found in Sarkassian's records had come from. Finally they had to use Cameron's built in GPS. It was on the third story of an old, run down brownstone in a bad section of town, not far from a bar called the Ace-O-Clubs.

John picked the lock and the three went in. Each of them pulled on rubber gloves and Cameron added a hair net. They didn't want to contaminate the scene. A single desk with an old rotary phone faced a window covered by a poster. A dusty book shelf contained few old volumes.

A layer of undisturbed dust covered the window sill, the book shelf and the chair. So, Jason and Cameron started dusting the desk for finger prints while John plugged his computer into the phone jack to see if he could find anything else.

He cracked the Nynex switch, but it took him longer than he expected. _Must be a GTE system. Those always take me longer than the Nor-Tel or Lucent models._

"The only call made over this phone line in the last six months was the one I found at Sarkassian's" John announced. He stood up and adjusted his short sleeved bowling shirt before putting the computer back in its place in his bag. "How are you guys doing?"

"How does it look?" Jason answered with a question.

"Sorry I asked. Can I help?"

Cameron interjected, "If he helps with finger prints, I could search for hair and fiber evidence. I have a very good zoom function built into my eyes."

Jason considered for a moment. "Okay, sure. John you help with dusting the desk for prints and Cameron can start looking for hair and fiber, that was next on the check list I got from He-, from my friend."

Cameron set down her improvised fingerprint dusting kit which consisted of a lady's face powder compact and a makeup brush. She moved over toward the door and began scanning the floor and door jamb.

"Who did you get the investigation checklist from anyway?" John picked up the compact and fumbled while opening it. He nearly spilled the makeup powder. Evidently his mother didn't wear much make up. Jason had seen Lois use one of these often enough as a tyke.

"Batman's daughter." Jason replied casually as though she were just another one of his friends, which in truth Helena Wayne was...just another of Jason's friends. His friends did tend to be on the fantastical side though, witness the two in the room with him: an Android from the future and the boy who would one day save the world.

"Batman isn't real," Cameron piped in. "You must be joking again."

"No, I'm serious."

"I have detailed files on the heroes of late 1990s and early 21st Century." Cameron did not look up from her scanning. She continued methodically around the small room. "No reliable evidence was found to support the existence of a Batman. Superman, the Green Lanterns, Wonder Woman, the Martian Manhunter, the Flashes, Lightning and his successor Static were all well documented. The Bat and the Archer were both regarded as urban legends."

"Batman's real and he has a daughter. I used to play with her when we were little kids. She and I even ran off to an amusement park together." Jason chuckled. "Got in a bit of trouble, there." He sighed "But that's a story for another time."

He continued dusting and wished that he had microscopic vision like his father. "She and I learned martial arts fighting each other. I learned to control my strength and speed while sparing with her. I taught myself to pull my punches and kicks so that I wouldn't injure her. She, on the other hand, learned to fight really hard. She could wail on me all she wanted and the most I ever got were bruises.

"Before your girl guardian," Jason pointed to Cameron. "Batman's daughter was the only person who ever managed to throw me around. Pluse, I heal quickly. Just add sunlight. Her father and the butler had to remove the planks from a boarded up old well that went down to a stream in the Cave to let in sunlight for me."

"Speaking of sunlight, the sun has moved quite a bit, behind that poster, since we arrived. Are we going to take a break anytime soon? I'm getting hungry." John asked over the rumbling sound of his stomach.

Jason jumped over that question. "Hey John, did you have to remove the phone jack from the wall to plug in your computer?"

Humanity's future savior thought back. "No."

"I calculate only a 22 chance that whoever removed that phone jack left a print." Cameron observed. "We should continue with the desk."

Jason picked up the make up compact and brush that were serving as a fingerprint dusting kit and started to walk over to the phone jack.

"Dude!" John protested. "Won't you lose your place on that desk and have to start over?" Now he'd never get an afternoon snack.

"I might." Jason set the makeup brush down to mark his place. "Cameron have you been watching us while you were scanning for hair and fibers?"

"Yes, " the Machine-girl replied, looking up from her scanning and then returning to the exact spot. "I always keep both of you in the corner of my eye,"

"So, would you be able to reconstruct what we've dusted and what we haven't from memory?" Jason continued.

"I think so."

"Good." An eye blink later Jason was squatting next to the phone jack and dusting from prints. "Got one! Someone bring me clear tape and an index card."

John tossed his bag across the room. Jason removed the transparent tape and pealed off some to lift the print. Then he taped the print onto the blank side of a white index card. On the reverse he labeled it with the date, address and location within the room where the print had been recovered.

Excitedly the youths packed up and left without finishing the scene. Cameron felt something akin to hope that they had what they needed. She computed a 57 percent chance they wouldn't find anything at all if they needed to return.

On the way back to Jason's family home, John asked, "Now that we've got the print, what do we do with it?"

"We run it of course." Cameron replied.

"Of course we do. But how? I can't go in a police station," John continued, "and I am NOT hacking into VICAP or any of the national fingerprint databases."

"I could break into a police station and..."Cameron ventured.

"NO!" Jason and John said in stereo.

"Well," Jason thought out loud, "my father knew plenty of cops in Metropolis..."

They were all quite for a moment, just thinking,

"Why don't you take a really close up picture of it email it to Charlie Dixon." Jason said as if that explained everything.

"But Charlie Dixon is a paramedic." The Machine-girl pointed out. "He will not have access to any of the fingerprint databases."

"Good idea, Jason." John pointed to his nose. "Charley has got to know some police detectives back in LA. He'll use up one of his favors to get the print run through the systems and we stay off the grid."

**Day Eleven: 9:12 AM.**

The following morning: Sarah and John drank coffee in their Pjs. While Cameron and Jason prepared the family's breakfast. Cameron wore a robe as she diced tomatoes, onions, peppers and musrooms. Jason hadd asked her to dice the veggies so he could mix them in with the scrambled eggs.

When Jason brought over the first plate of eggs, he caught sight of the morning paper. He just sat down, dumbstruck, picked it up and reread the headline: ANOTHER SUPERMAN RETURNS. A large photo of a man whose nose, cheekbones and spit curl looked identical to those of Kal-El of Krypton lay beneath the headline. But the yellow visor looked off and the haughty, condescending facial expression was way wrong as was the fact that the woman this 'superman' had saved said that he'd killed her attempted rapists. _My father doesn't kill! _Jason sat at dining room table, which they had dragged it into the kitchen, brooding over the front page for eleven minutes and thirty-four seconds.

Sarah reached over and touched his forearm.

Jason looked up at her. "Whoever this guy is, he's not my father." He wondered what his mom and dad would think.

The phone rang and caller-ID showed Charlie Dixon's number. Derek took the call, feeling a bit possessive of Sarah, now that Charlie's wife had left him. Charlie explained, "My detective friend just me called with the fingerprint results. It took half the night. The system finally matched the print with one in the State Department's entry documents. You guys are most likely out of luck. This person probably has diplomatic immunity."

"Whose print is it?"

"It belongs to an Amazon. She works for Lex Luthor under the name of Mercy Graves, she's his personal assistant, bodyguard and driver."

An Amazon.

Jason wondered whether he or his mother or his Godfather Bruce would be able to get a call through to his Godmother Diana, Amazon Princess and Ambassador to the U.S., first. No matter. He'd call both of them before he started trying to get through to Diana. Then who ever got thru first could call off the others. It didn't matter who told her. Just that it would be helpful to have some Amazon Warriors with them to get into LuthorCorp. Taking down a renegade Amazon would make a great distraction for destroying the Turk.

Have a good day, and God bless.

Chris St Thomas with Metropolis Kid

The original version of this chapter contained an incident with the Visored Superman. I'm removing most of the material about him and moving it into a sequel. I'm doing this in two parts this time around. World Without a Superman, Reign of the Supermen.


	17. Legacies

**Legacies**

A/N – Thanks to Shado Librarian who supplied the name of the Metropolis DA as well as Shadowglove &amp; Elly32 who told me what kind of espresso drink Cassiopeia the Amazon should order. Also, this story is still set back in 2008 – before the Iranian nuclear deal.

**DAY 11-Los Angeles—6:44 am PDT**

Lois Lane White sat on the patio of a local coffee house in LA. She'd picked a spot that offered a good view of all approaching routes and of the duck pond across the street. Lois had forgone the professional pantsuit for jeans, sneakers and a polo shirt. She choose that patio, of that coffeehouse because it afforded a view of the duck pond where an Amazon named Cassiopeia had asked to meet her. Cassiopeia had said 6:30 and it was now nearly 6:45.

This was the Amazon who'd picked her son up and flown him around above the clouds in the bright, pure sunlight last week. The flight had helped him to heal up after he'd been nearly beaten to death and blown to pieces by some kind of Killer Robot. Granted, Jason got the best of it a couple of days later, but the whole thing had been a harrowing experience for her as a mother. It took her back to feelings she hadn't had since she'd been "Superman's Girlfriend:" always worried that this or that Menace would be the one to finally take him down. Somewhere in her heart, she still had unresolved feelings for Superman.

And now he was dead.

Now Superman was dead at the hands of a gray-skinned, bony-browed monster people had taken to calling Doomsday. The monster didn't seem to have survived either, but that wasn't what was important.

What mattered was that ever since Jason had stopped a gunman's rampage at his school last week, he was on a hero kick. Well he had powers, what was he meant to do – ignore them and hope they would go away? No, what is it Spider-man says in the movies? 'With great powers come great responsibility.' And the gunman had a robotic arm. Heck, the gunman had turned out to be another Killer Robot, if she'd gotten the story out of Jason correctly.

Nor was it the only one. Apparently an unknown number of these Killer Robots from the Future, what was it Jason insisted on calling them...Terminators, that's it. These Terminators had been sent back through time to put an end to one of Jason's schoolmates, a teenager named John Baum. Or was it Phillips, or Reese, or Connor?

It wasn't like this was any weirder than Darkseid, the Pale Martians' attack or the fraking Crime Syndicate of Amerika from a parallel fraking world. No, it wasn't weirder; but none of those foes had involved her son. And, now he'd gone road tripping back across the country with said future-fighting dysfunctional punks searching for the chess playing computer that was supposed to be the seed for the future genocidal AI computer network that was sending the Terminators back through time.

At least her son had allies he could call upon, Bruce, Grayson, the Amazons, the Martian, the Fast Girl and even her other old flame Oliver 'Green Arrow' Queen.

Lois felt the tears coming, but now wasn't the time for it. She forced herself to look down at her pad and review her list of question for the fifth time. The girl was late and Lois had already drunk three cappuccinos while waiting. She was wired.

The first few were about the Amazons' involvement in Middle East politics. It was a hot button issue. Right then, anything coming out of the Middle East was a hot button issue, but Persian and Arab ambassadors trying to negotiate with representatives of a very powerful civilization of women warriors? Well, it was even more 'hot button' than most of the stuff going on over there.

However, Middle Eastern politics wasn't what was really on Lois's mind; it was just a few warm up questions and justification for an article. After the first few questions, the list took a sharp detour into the event's surrounding the explosion and resulting EMP in East LA. Although the event had occurred over a week ago and were no longer 'big news' Lois was still interested. This was after all the Amazon who'd picked up her son and Lois wanted to know if she could be trusted.

If it were Diana, Lois wouldn't have even been concerned, but she knew Diana. She did not know this, this Cassiopeia.

Just where is she? Pretty unprofessional to keep a ace reporter waiting like this. The girl must not have much experience dealing with the press. Lois looked at her watch and huffed. That's it. Five more minutes and I'm leaving. Forget whether or not I trust her to keep my son alive if he gets in over his head with this mess. It was then that the subject of her interview, one Cassiopeia of the Amazons, entered the park across the street with the duck pond. Lois stood up and waved to get her attention. The ageless girl looked resplendent in a classical Mediterranean sun dress with all the right curves. Lois very definitely loved Richard White, but that Amazon was one gorgeous woman.

Crossing the street and entering the coffeehouse, Cassiopeia looked around for a moment then saw Lois's table. Cassiopeia recognized the female reporter from the photo that ran with her bylines in the LA Planet; but there was something else as well, something about her seemed familiar. Cassiopeia felt like she knew the other woman from somewhere, though she couldn't quite place it. She walked over to the table and sat down.

Lois lost her breath for a moment. Jason had told her that the Amazon resembled her cousin Chloe Sullivan, but this was ridiculous. Looking her in the eyes, the reporter felt that other than the hair, they were identical! Or rather, the Amazon looked like Chloe would look, if she hadn't died on the Day the Towers Fell and hadn't aged either, but had spent plenty of time in the gym doing martial arts and yoga.

Cassiopeia sat down. "Well, lets get this over with."

"Huh?"

"The interview. Let's do the interview so I can talk to you about ... what I need to bring up."

"Oh, right." Get a grip girl. They don't look that much alike. Okay, maybe they do, but she's an Amazon. Your cousin grew up in Smallville with Clark. There can't be any connection. Lois tried to recompose herself. She wasn't often thrown for a loop, but seeing a ghost could do that, even to a hardened reporter like her. She bought a few more seconds by looking back at her pad again, then started the interview. "Okay, let's start with an easy one. Question one: I hear that there was an incident at the last American\Amazonian\Persian diplomatic discussion. Care to comment?"

That's an easy one? "Look, about that: It was really nothing. People are blowing it way out of proportion."

A server came by and took the Amazon's order. She started to ask for bottled water but what came out was, "Almond mocha cappuccino with extra whip."

The server looked appraisingly at the lean Amazon for a moment and asked, "Is that sugar free, fat free?"

Cassiopeia nodded and the server left.

Lois had heard the back peddling tone in the Amazon's voice. Focus on that, ignore whom she looks like. The reporter closed in with her questions, "Really, is that so? Because reports say that the Amazonian diplomat slugged the Iranian representative."

"Um, maybe you should talk with Princess Diana." The Amazon shifted nervously in her seat. Feeling nervous like this, pinned down verbally somehow feels unfamiliar, as though I used to be the one asking the pointed questions.

"Oh she's already made her statement: the Amazon was provoked and the Iranian got what was coming to him." Lois felt the caffeine rush now.

"So, why ask me?" Cassiopeia leaned closer to Lois.

"Because Diana's the Princess, heir to Hippolyta's Throne and Director of the Amazon Diplomatic Corps. I'm trying to get the opinion of a rank and file Amazon." Lois flashed her Disarming Smile. "If such a woman exists. Anyway, Diana's statement got her into some hot water, politically speaking; and I'm trying to find out if the rest of the Amazons share her belief." Cassiopeia was quiet. Lois tired to draw her out with a challenge. "You know a lot of the news networks are trying to play you gals up as a bunch of blood thirsty war mongers."

"This is simply untrue!" Cassiopeia's eyes widened and she lowered her voice. "We want peace. That's all we've ever wanted."

"So, I'll ask you again," Lois queried, "why did your representative punch the Persian ambassador?"

"She was provoked!" Cassiopeia spit out without thinking.

The server brought the Amazon her coffee and she gave the girl a ten dollar bill telling her to keep the change.

"Really? Provoked how?" This was too easy. This girl was walking right into every one of Lois's questions. "Our sources say that he didn't say more than three words to her all through the negotiation."

Cassiopeia was quiet for a moment, sipping her espresso drink. Lois had already pulled more out of her than she'd wanted to give up, and she wasn't sure if it would be best to just hush up or give an explanation. After several seconds of silence, she decided on the later. "Well, that's just it. He ignored her. He directed everything he said at the US representative, even the questions about Themyscira's involvement."

The reporter scribbled some notes and followed up, "Ahuh, and why did he do that?"

"Well, that's what she was wondering." Cassiopeia continued. "After thirty minuets of being ignored and talked over she finally asked him what was going on. The jerk replied, 'Men talk to men.'"

"And that's when she hit him?" Lois clarified.

"Yes." Cassiopeia stated flatly. "And to be clear, it was more of a slap than a slug. Our representative backhanded the Persian Ambassador with an open hand; she did not strike him with balled fist."

Lois stared at Cassiopeia, sheesh this Amazon looked unnerving like her cousin. If she thought too much Lois would feel like she was interviewing a ghost. The girl was nervous, too nervous. Lois half expected her to rabbit out of the coffee shop. Can't let that happen, not before I've had a chance to get to what I really want to ask about. Lois flashed the Disarming Smile again, and turned it up a few dozen Watts. Then she replied encouragingly. "Well, as an ace female reporter, I probably would've done the same thing." Lois laughed lightly. "Seems that Princess Diana was right. The Persian Ambassador did have it coming."

Cassiopeia breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm glad you agree. I trust that your article will be favorable?"

"As favorable as my editor will allow." Lois said. "We can't exactly encourage fist fights during negotiations, but I think he'll understand the extenuating circumstances."

"He sounds like a good man." Cassiopeia commented.

"He is. That's why I married him." Lois laughed again, and could see that Cassiopeia had nearly dropped her guard completely. Good. It's time to switch topics. I think I can even skip down the list a little. "Okay, second topic."

Cassiopeia put up her hand again. She chuckled slightly, "Oh no. I can tell when I'm outmatched. You're going to have to talk to the Princess or one of our diplomats if you want to know any more about Middle East politics.

Lois smiled. "Okay, fair enough. But how about something a little more close to home?"

"Depends on what you have in mind." Cassiopeia looked at little sheepish.

"I was thinking about the green explosion and the accompanying EMP in East LA last week." Lois prodded. "My sources say that you were on the scene."

"Well, that's not completely accurate. I arrived later in one of the Invisible Jets. The green flash was part of an EMP emergency drill." Cassiopeia slipped in the cover story the Princess had cooked up with Secretary of State Conderleeza Rice and Defense Secretary Robert Gates.

"So, what were you doing there in the war plane?" Lois Lane, hot on the scent, asked.

"It was just a training exercise; your Air National Guard asked us to fly Security Air Patrol over LA for them." Cassiopeia replied. That wasn't true either but it was another part of the cover story.

"Training exercise, huh? You know, that's usually code for a covert military op. Hmm, Amazonian Invisible war plane on a covert military op, big green explosion in East LA. I wonder if there's a connection there?" Lois waited a minute to let the implication sink in.

"How can you even think suck a thing?" the Amazon looked aghast. "Why would we attack LA?"

"Attack? Did I use the word attack?" Lois verbally sparred back. "You seem rather defensive though."

"You implied one." Cassiopeia looked grave for a moment.

"No, all I asked was if there was a connection. Maybe an experiment that went wrong? My sources say that a boy saw the explosion, survived it and you picked him up afterwards. I'd like to talk to him."

Cassiopeia's voice took on a hard edge. "Your sources are wrong. There was no experiment and no boy."

Lois leaned in. "Really? Are you sure? Because I could run an article on how an invisible Amazonian jet attacked a target in East LA. Given what's going on in the media right now, that would not be very good for you girls. Not very good at all. If on the other hand the explosion was caused by something else and the boy's a witness, well... An Amazon flying into a disaster area to evacuate survivors. That would look a lot better, don't you think?. So, just who was the boy? Tell me so I can get an interview, or things are going to get very bad for you."

Cassiopeia quickly stood up. The chair flew back three feet. "There was no attack, no experiment and no boy. Run whatever story you want. It's just going to come back to bite you in the ass." Cassiopeia stormed out of the coffee house.

Lois smiled. Good answer girl! She ran after the Amazon. Lois caught up with Cassiopeia on the street outside. "Hey! Wait up." Cassiopeia just kept on going. Lois ran up and grabbed her arm.

Cassiopeia easily twisted free. "Interview's over." She started to walk away again.

Lois ran up to her again. "Look I'm sorry. Will... Will you just wait a minute? I'm trying to explain."

Cassiopeia turned around, arms crossed in front of her chest. She gave Lois an annoyed look. "Explain what?"

Lois whispered, "I'm... I'm Jason's mother."

Cassiopeia flippantly replied, "Yeah right."

"No really." Lois reached into her pocket book and pulled out her wallet. She showed Cassiopeia her driver's license. "See, Lois Lane White." Cassiopeia stared past the license, transfixed by photo next to it. Lois continued, "'Look I'm sorry for putting you through all that, but... But I had to make sure that you could be trusted. Jason, he's the most important thing in my life. I had to know that you could be trusted."

Cassiopeia's expression softened. She handed Lois back her license. "He's... He seemed to be a good kid. He even reminds me of someone, although I can't quite seem to recall whom. I...I understand why you did what you did." She pointed a finger in at Lois. "But if you ever try to strong arm me like that again I'll..."

"Don't worry." Lois smiled, "Next time I want an interview for a story, I'll ask Diana. She and I have known each other since... before the Justice League was founded."

"My incident with your son, this conversation with you, Ms Lane..." Cassiopeia paused for a moment to collect herself. "It's like I have memories trying to break through, out of my subconscious. It's like I had a whole other life before Themyscaria. And I don't mean in the mythological kind of way. I mean, like I was someone else before Themyscaria and I just have some kind of amnesia."

Now it was Lois's turn to blanch.

"You, have some experience with that?"

"Yeah, about sixteen years ago, with Superman..." when I was dating Superman.

"And Jason is … fifteen?"

"Yes."

"Yeah." A brief moment of quiet uneasiness passed between the two. But both women decided it was okay. Lois continued, "You know it's funny that Jason should remind you of someone, because you remind me of someone too. I used to have this cousin-" Lois was interrupted by a beeping sound.

"It's my cell. Hold on a minute." Cassiopeia opened her purse and answered the call. "Yeah. Ahuh. I understand. Don't worry, Your Highness, I'm on my way." Cassiopeia clicked the phone off and placed it back into her purse. She turned to Lois. "Sorry, but duty calls."

And with that she was gone.

At which point Lois realized that he own phone was ringing as well. Ringtone was for Richard's number at the LA Planet. "Hello."


	18. (Rev 2) Sometimes You Picture Me

**Sometimes You Picture Me**

AN: This chapter was mostly written by Chris St. Thomas. Although Metropolis kid did contribute some parts and helped with the future stuff. Warning: Involves (temporary) Character Death.

**DAY 12. Midday. Metropolis**

"Hey, everyone! Sarah just called in with a lead on this Amazon, Melantha, we're looking for. She calls herself Mercy and she's a personal assistant for some business mogul name of Luthor." Derek announced as he made his way to the front door of the house, where a visitor had just rung the doorbell. He opened and a beautiful strawberry-blonde young woman asked for Jason White.

"Jason! You have a visitor!" John's uncle called over his shoulder and up the stairs. He wore a pair of dark blue cargo shorts and a brown t-shirt, untucked. Turning back to the guest at the door he added, "Oh, you can step on in, Miss...""

"Cassiopeia. Of Themyscaria." Decked out in her fighter-jet pressure suit and tactical boots, the Amazon looked like she had just stepped out of 5th Generation fighter jet. Which, of course, she may as well have done, since any Amazon Invisible Aircraft was an overmatch for anything designed by American, British or Russian aeronautical engineers.

"Jason will be along in minute, I'm sure." Derek gestured to the living room, "Take a load off." He walked back down the hall that led to the stairs.

Cassiopeia stepped into the living room and looked around. She saw paint faded unevenly in squares and rectangles on the walls, where paintings and photos had hung. She also noticed impressions in the carpet where furniture had sat for a long time and wasn't there any more. Why did she feel like she could almost remember what artwork and furniture filled the gaps?

Dressed like his uncle Derek, John stepped from the kitchen into the living room carrying a mug of coffee. He noticed the hot redhead in the living room glancing at the bare wall and stooped to pick up his jaw. "Um. Hi," was all he managed to say before Cameron dragged him on down the hallway. As she dragged, she simultaneously starred daggers at the Amazon and whispered urgently to John about ball lightning reported the night before in the desert east of Los Angeles.

Jason came down from his upstairs room, passed John and Cameron in the hallway as they made their way toward the basement stairs to the Equipment Room.

"Dude!" John said to Jason, "why didn't you tell me you knew some bodacious babes in this town?" An enigmatic smile was his only reply. John smacked his friend playfully in the shoulder. Then he shook his hand out, "Ow..."

"Would you have taken time out from hunting Skynet for a night on the town, if I had?" Jason asked. A dark look that was more contemplative than he'd expected was his only reply.

Jason stepped on down the hall. He almost reached the living room when he turned back to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he quickly checked his hair, his breath and sniffed his shirt. He ran his hand through his hair, shoved a dab of toothpaste in his mouth and swished with water from the faucet. He checked himself again in the mirror, then zipped back upstairs at speed to ditch his black hoodie and change into a light blue polo shirt.

Feeling presentable, he zipped back down the stairs and swaggered into the living room expecting his old friend Rebecca. Surprise nailed him to the floor and struck him dumb, when he saw Cassiopeia standing before him. Truly, this was the last person in the world he expected to see in his old house in Metropolis. Visions of this girl leaning over him, her head haloed by the sun overhead, as he puked his guts out next to Charley Dixon's ambulance, and then of her lifting him into her Invisible Jet, danced through his mind. _You saved me! Thank you so much for saving me! _Jason wanted to say. He wanted to rush up and hug her, rush up and kneel before her like a medieval knight before his Princess and take her hand gently to plant the most courtly of gentle kisses upon it. But he didn't. He said and did none of those. Instead, he stood erect and shoved both hands deep in his pockets, "So...where'd you park the jet?"

"In the yard. Next to the dock." _Where I always park it,_ she almost wanted to say, but didn't. She knew she'd never parked the Invisible Jet at the White/Lane house before.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode and temporary Headquarters?" Jason motioned her back to the kitchen.

The Amazon followed, "I need backup."

The lad pulled some clean glasses out of the dishwasher.

The Amazon watched him remove one pitcher of orange-pineapple juice and another of water from the refrigerator. Something seemed familiar about this room, as though she knew which kitchen gadgets were missing from the counter and into which drawer to reach for the chop-sticks or the pizza cutter.

"Oh, so you didn't come just to see me then." Jason asked with a note of humor in his voice, holding up the two pitchers. _._

"Half and half." The warrior said simply. The she flashed half a smile. "No. But after the Mission, I'd like to talk."

Jason poured juice and water in each of the glasses and offered one to the woman before him. "Do you want to tell me about this Mission that requires backup here or out back, on the deck." He was pretty sure he'd have to say no. Finding the Turk before the trail went cold was absolutely the TOP priority right now, but he could afford a few minutes. _Hmmm. She has the nose and eyes of Father's friend and the hair coloring of my favorite vampire. What else will life throw at me today?_

_Get real Jason, _I thought to myself,_ this chick probably learned her geometry from Euclid himself. Amazons are all but immortal. You know this. But she looks so much like Mom's cousin, Father's friend from Smallville. The one no one had spoken of since the Day the Tower Fell. Father had stopped the second airliner from striking World Trade Center, but he'd been caught off guard, like everyone, else when the first one had hit._

"The deck." She preferred the open air and sunlight, to the indoors any time. The two went out through the back door.

Jason and Cassiopeia took their seats at a round table that had an umbrella through the center of it. _He didn't get my chair, hmpf. Not exactly the perfect gentleman his father was...And just how is it that I know what his father was like...and why do I care whether or not a teenager gets my chair anyway? _"The mission is this: on the Authority of Her Majesty Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, I'm to arrest and detain a rogue Amazon for extradition. The Crown Princess directed that I not seek help among my sisters. As I understand it only two of the Justice League are active again since the recent Doomsday battles."

"And you figure Aunt Diana had their phone numbers, but she still called you, so you came to me."

"Something like that, but give yourself credit, kid. You went fifteen rounds with a Terminator. Twice. And won."

"I had help on the rematch, but how do you know about that?"

"Your mother and I talked." Cassiopeia stared out across the river.

"Would this Amazon happen to be Melantha, who works for Lex Luthor under the assumed name Mercy Graves?"

"How would you that?" It was the Amazon's turn to look incredulous.

"Detective work." Jason leaned back and smiled, sipping his drink. Joe Cool. "It seems you and I have converging interests today."

The two gulped their juice quickly and went back inside to get the others.

Meanwhile, out in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, the ball lightening of a time displacement field surged.

"Well, I was prepared to tell you that I had more pressing matters to attend, but today is your lucky day." Jason told the Amazon. _How could he have known this would be the last time he'd say 'lucky day' for decades?_

**JASON'S** **POV**.

Fifteen minutes later, as John, Cassiopeia, Derek and I crossed the yard to the Amazon Invisible Aircraft, Cassiopeia instructed it reveal itself in gunmetal grey. Then she had it reconfigure from supersonic fighter jet, into utility helicopter. When finished, it rather resembled an American UH-60 Blackhawk. "It would become a chariot pulled by flying horses, if I wanted." Cassiopeia told us. A Blackhawk was more our style. _What could go wrong on this Mission?_ John had three of us to protect him, two of us had Powers. Plus, I could spot a Terminator anywhere within 150 meters by the way they sounded. And for that matter, who at LuthorCorp Plaza would want to kill John Connor, anyway? In the helicopter, Derek took the co-pilot seat and Cassiopeia naturally took the pilot chair. John and I strapped in the back. Meanwhile, Cameron and Sarah piled into the Cherokee to go window shopping together. Apparently something of my previous HAL speech had sunk in, at least to Sarah. _Who indeed..._

The plan was simple. Almost fool proof. We would land in full Invisible mode on the LuthorCorp Plaza rooftop heliport. John would hack the security systems. Cassiopeia and I would subdue the rogue Amazon - Mercy as she called herself or Melantha by her Amazon name. Derek would shackle her wrists together to suppress her Powers. Cassiopeia would employ one of the famous, golden Amazon Lassos of Truth. Mercy would tell us the Turk's location. Derek and John would neutralize the Turk. No. I would go with John, because a man has to not only shackle the Amazon to neutralize her Powers, but also hold her captive continuously to keep her Powers from returning.

We underestimated Melantha. Either that or maybe she just shook Cassiopeia's confidence.

We confronted her with Cassiopeia and Derek in the lead, John in the center with his hacking gear and a small quantity of thermite in his book bag and me bringing up the rear.

"Melantha of Themyscaria you are under arrest." Cassiopeia called. She'd changed out of the pressure suit and into her Amazon battle armor. John, Derek and I wore matching black T-shirts and dark blue cargo pants. Except my T-shirt had my father's symbol emblazoned on the left shoulder in red and black like a military unit patch.

"Oh, please..." Melantha laughed mockingly, her eyes narrowing on Cassiopiea. "Casting call for extras in 'Hercules: The Musical' is down in the Theatre District and I'm sure Clubland is looking for bouncers. Thanks for dropping in." She made light of us with her words, but I could see a dark look in her eyes. "My name is Mercy Gravesand I am the personal assistant to Lex Luthor."

Cassiopeia continued. "You are charged with thievery and fomenting a revolution against the Queen. Will you yield?"

"Just who do you think you are, girlfriend, barging in here in that Halloween costume?"

"I am Cassiopeia of Themyscaria, Captain of the Queen's Bows and Swords."

Melantha's eyes narrowed on Cassiopiea, dismissing the rest of us. "I don't know you." I could see the focus change in her eyes as she thought fiercely, "Embassy Security, hmmm at least the Queen sent someone who should be challenge. I haven't been gone that long...eight years, a decade maybe. Time flows differently out here in The World. Why don't I know you? There aren't that many of us. We all knew each other before I left the Island. You must be a foundling. Poor girl."

"Will. You. Yield." Cassiopeia asked again. I could tell her confidence had been thrown by this 'Mercy.'

Mercy pulled her gauntlets out of her desk. "Absolutely not. I haven't had a proper fight in ages."

Cassiopeia drew two sais from her belt and assumed an en garde stance. Derek dropped back with John and I moved up.

"Oh. I see." Melantha remarked as Cassiopeia bared her weapons. "It's not the part of Xena for which you wish to audition, but rather Elektra."

The two Amazons closed with each other and generally commenced to kicking the snot out of each other. Melantha had the merest of edges. Maybe from talking Cassiopeia down. Maybe she was just stronger and faster. I stepped up and engaged with some superspeed martial arts, but I kept missing my punches and kicks. This drew more mocking laughter from Mercy and a withering glare from Cassiopeia.

I hadn't tried my superspeed martial arts since the battles with Cromartie. While the Terminator was far stronger than a real human, it lacked a certain quickness and agility. I was fighting Mercy like I had fought the Machine and she was far quicker and more agile than even an expert mortal martial artist.

While I adjusted my techniques, Derek grabbed a length of pipe waded into the fight as well, using it like a bow-staff.

Lex Luthor came in at one point, but Melantha assured him she could take us.

***************WARNING*********************WARNING**********************WARNING**************

Any squeemish readers bothered by the mention of blood or by character death are warned to skip to the end.

Still here?

I warned you.

Eventually we subdued her and Derek got the shackles on her wrists; but before my Amazon could get the Lasso on her, we heard gurgling sounds. Derek turned back to John. I followed his gaze and we both saw that John was leaned up against the wall with his hands at his neck, bleeding out. Derek almost lost it, but the soldier in him won out and he maintained discipline, continuing the fight.

I just stood there, frozen to the floor. I couldn't believe it. _This wasn't supposed to happen. This can't be happening._ I stared at John while the blood poured from the gash in his throat. I knew that there was nothing I could do for him. I felt a torrent of emotions building up in me: grief, sorrow, guilt. _How could this have happened? _But my anger consumed them all.

Then I heard Mercy laughing and all my other emotions were engulfed by a blinding rage. My eyes burned. I turned to her. In an instant, I closed the distance with her and my hands grasped around her throat, choking the life from her. "Why'd you stop laughing? Not funny anymore?" I probably would've killed her. No... There's no **probably** about it. I would've killed her, had Cassiopeia not interfered.

She grabbed my hands and tried to pull them away, but I my rage made me stronger. Cassiopeia yelled, "Stop! She deserves justice, not wrath. And anyway, how can we question her unless she's alive?" I felt some reason return to my mind. I let go of the rogue Amazon and shook my head. The burning in my eyes decreased but didn't disappear.

Using her golden Lasso, Cassiopeia extracted the Turk's location. Then she and Derek dragged Melantha through the corridors to the elevator and up to the rooftop heliport.

Researchers fleeing before me, I smashed my way into an Artificial Intelligence Lab where Cassiopeia's Truth Lasso had compelled Melantha to reveal the Turk's location. I found it there and crushed it. A lot of other expensive looking stuff filled the lab. I tried to vent by smashing it all. It helped a little but not much. When I walked out of the room, two guards spotted me.

They were running down the hall, towards to room I'd just demolished. Most likely, they'd heard the sound and come to investigate. The two guards pulled their sidearms and aimed at me. One told me to freeze. I ignored him. The two were unimportant, weak, beneath me; and I didn't pay them any heed, at least, not until they opened fire.

Bullets struck my body. The guards were firing 0.22 caliber revolvers at moderate range. Thank Heaven it was the rentacops that had responded and not Luthor's Lex-Men. My father had told stories about them carrying fully automatic MP-5 street sweepers and even some futuristic backpack-style laser weapons.

The small, slow bullets didn't even penetrate my body, but they still stung on impact. The feeling of the rounds impacting my body, caused me to emit an annoyed growl that was more driven by the emotional effect of seeing my friend die than the physical impact and pain of the bullets.

The guards heard me growl and saw how ineffective their weapons were, but they kept firing anyway. That was it, I lost control. I could feel my eyes burning intensely again. I heard myself laugh. "You're too stupid to live." I lunged at the two guards. I was halfway to them when I heard a voice, "Humans are fragile, son. You must learn to restrain yourself around us." I looked up and stopped short, a milimeter away from The Man of Steel in his red cape and shiny steel-plated, powered commando armor. Actually, he looked rather like Iron Man's friend War Machine from the Avengers movies. Except, he had a red cape and an S on his chest, rather than the huge gatling-gun mounted on his back and the arc-reactor in his chest. He must have flown in from a side maintenance accessway. "This..." he gestured with his hammer, indicating the cringing guards and the smashed AI lab "what you're doing here, the destruction and violence," and then he lowered the hammer and gestured toward my father's symbol on my shoulder... "it's not the way to honor his legacy."

I took a deep breath and glanced sideways at my shoulder. "You're right."

"I'll help your friends get the fugative back into Amazon custody at their Consulate a few streets over," he offered. "Why don't you go bench press a mountain or something and cool off?"

I gave him a thin smile, and a nod of respect. I ran right by the Man of Steel and the flabbergasted guards. As I ran down thirty-three flights of stairs and out of LuthorCorp Plaza through the loading docks, with my superhearing, I heard "SCU-6, this is Steel. We're clear here. You and your team can stand down."

I ran up I-95 to US-1 to the Ocean Lady and the continued on up to the Canadian boarder and back.

***************OK**IF**YOU'RE**SQUEEMISH,**YOU**CAN**READ**AGAIN***************************

After running up to the Canadian border and back, I was thinking more clearly, and I caught up to Sarah and Cameron at Neimand-Marcus on Fifth Avenue. I managed to get them both outside before I told them that we had lost John. After that moment, Sarah never spoke to me again.

Cameron, on the other hand, immediately began beating the crap out of me. I leaped into the air, ripped down some power lines and jammed them into her head to force her into rebooting. Then, during those 120 seconds, I carried her, at a super speed run, out past the suburbs and into the New Jersey Pine Barrens. When she 'woke up', I let her pound on me to her 'heart's' content. We sparred for a long while. Time passed. The moon rose. The sun set. At length, she froze up in the middle of a spin-kick, her momentum carrying her around full circle to the ground. She lay there on lichen covered rocks next to a nearby stream.

My whole body was one giant bruise, and it hurt. I looked up at the sky and saw that the stars had rotated, the evening constellations having set and Orion having risen to the height of the sky. A nearly full moon had almost reached it's zenith as well. Reflected sunlight is better than none, and eventually, my regeneration kicked in and slowly fixed me up.

I walked over to Cameron. She just lay there on her back, leg still extended, fists balled up, staring off into nothing. I listened to her. Her heart beat was weak and steady, like always. Her breathing, though, sounded shallow and rapid, as though she were in some kind of shock. I tried to bend her other leg up and allow gravity to draw more of her synthetic blood into her core organs, but it wouldn't budge. I took off my hoodie and put it around her torso to try and raise her temp.

I listened deeper, past the smaller physical sounds of respiration, pulse and digestion. I listened into her mechanical systems. They were completely shut down. I listened for her electronic systems. She sounded like an network server locked up by too much Internet traffic.

There were no electrical cables handy to force another hard reboot. What could I do? I wasn't going to lose another friend today. Not even a Machine-girl.

I felt my rage beginning to build. I looked up at the sky and screamed silently, "This isn't fair!" I knocked down a couple of narrow pine trees in single blows. Then I ripped their stumps out by the roots. I breathed hard and began to calm down. I remembered something I saw in the previews for that new Hulk movie coming out this summer: The Zen Master telling Bruce Banner to control his rage by controlling his body. Maybe it would work. Just because it was a movie didn't mean everything was made up.

I listened for the serene sound of the babbling brook near where Cameron lay.

I forced my breathing to be slow and deep.

I forced my racing pulse down to the rate of a strong workout.

I walked back over to Cameron. She still stared out at nothing. I detected some electrical activity, that I thought might be related to senses of touch and hearing.

I pulled her up, into a sitting position, and held her to me. Once before when she'd been stuck in a different loop, one of trying to terminate me against her conscious wishes, I'd been able to talk her out of it. Maybe that would work now. "Cameron, I believe you can hear me, so just listen. We can fix this. You and I together; we can fix it. Think back: every time Skynet sends a Machine after John or Sarah, it doesn't know what they look like. It just knows the names. The first Terminator, the one sent back to 1984, it went after all the Sarah Connors in LA. It didn't know which one, so it just tried to kill them all. The newspapers called it the LA Phone Book Killer, because it terminated them in the order they were list in the Pac-Bell White Pages. The T-1000 in 1997 posed as a cop to access John's Youth Hall and foster home records. The T-888 in 1999, it just knew a name and aliases, so it had to pose as a teacher and call the roll.

"Think about it Cameron, Skynet doesn't know who John Connor is, it just knows his name.

"Sarah says Kyle Reese told her that a man came out of the Camps and taught people to fight; gave them hope. We can do that. You and me, we carry on in John's name. I have friends who'll help us perpetuate the John Connor myth...In Gotham, there's Tim Drake and Terry McGuinness and of course Helena. In Star City there's Roy Harper. In Metropolis, there's Rebecca. We teach them to fight, they teach others to fight. We all tell the story of John Connor. Just leave out the part where he died. Besides, that was John Baum who bled out LuthorCorp Plaza, not John Connor.

"Come back to me Cameron. I can't do this without you."

"John?"

"No. Jason."

She pulled her legs up under and sat on her heels. Her mechanical limbs began to vibrate and a few stray tears leaked down her cheeks. I guessed this was what passed for honest trembling and weeping with her. Not until that moment did I know just how much she had cared for John.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but when Cameron spoke the eastern horizon was turning from black to gray.. "What about the Resistance? What will happen now?"

"If it comes to that, you and I will start it in John's name."

I found out later that Sarah took some Valium and headed for the bus depot. Over Memorial Day Weekend, we caught up to her at Arkham Asylum. She was Poison Ivy's roommate then; later, Harley Quinn's; then, Lynx's among others. Professor Hugo Strange and Dr. Jeremiah Arkham flew Dr. Peter Silberman out from Los Angeles to consult from time to time.

I never saw Derek again after he loaded Melantha into the helicopter. I found out later that he'd gone back to the one thing he knew how to do: soldiering. He stowed away on transport to the former Soviet Republic of Georgia and died there far from home fighting against the Russians, fighting for life and liberty.

Author's commentary

This chapter and the next two after it were originally part of a single chapter that ticked in at over 9,000 words. For Stephen King that might be a chapter; for anyone else, that's a novella. Anyway, I found two good break points - one of which is right up there, and now it's three chapters.


	19. I'm walking too far ahead

**I'm walking too Far Ahead**

**DAY 7300, November 10, 2027**

**LEX LUTHOR'S POV.**

Perhaps it **is** better to serve in heaven than to reign in hell.

I, Lex Luthor, am now the undisputed Emperor of Humanity - the million or so of us left in the burned-out, radioactive rubble of a world where humans are hunted down by gleaming metal robots created in the image of man. As the population continues to fall, the work camps are becoming death camps and I could have prevented it all. If only I had not murdered John Connor and destroyed the AI in Superman's Fortress.

Let me tell you a story.

It was coming up on two months after the grey-skinned, bony- browed, behemoth that came out of nowhere leaveing a trail of broken heroes and destruction behind it. The media had begun to call it Doomsday. In a climactic battle in Centennial Park in the heart of Midtown Metropolis, Superman ran the behemoth through with a kryptonite tipped lance and Doomsday stabbed the Alien thru the heart. Neither recovered from that battle directly. The Olsen kid's photo of the fallen Alien in the arms of his lady, with his torn cape blowing in the breeze and motionless Doomsday behind them, did go on to win the Pulitzer that year. I was finally coming out of my rage against Fate and the Universe for having denied me the opportunity to destroy the interloping Alien myself.

I had discovered a chess playing computer known as The Turk that was rumored to be the kernel of a future world girdling homicidal AI computer network. I investigated the device and found that a certain 'Sarah Baum' was pursuing it along with her paramour 'Derek Philips,' her son John and her 'stepdaughter' Cameron. Further investigation revealed Sarah Baum to be one of many aliases used by Sarah Connor who had been institutionalized in Pescadero State Perceptory and Asylum for the Criminally Insane. It was a place not unlike Gotham's Arkham Asylum and it stood outside of Los Angeles.

A few well placed bribes got me copies of Sarah Whoever's files from Pescadero and LAPD. She'd been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with a Virgin Mary complex and homicidal tendencies.

Her Psychiatrist's notes described her belief in Time Travel, Soldiers from the Future, Unstoppable Robot Assassins (that naturally Looked Human and also Came from The Future), a future Nuclear War she called Judgment Day, the Skynet Defense System that launched the Nuclear Missiles. And, oh yes, I almost forgot, her son John would grow up to be the leader of the Human Resistance which would ultimately defeat this 'Skynet' and its so-called Terminators.

Well, I didn't know about Time Travel, but I believed in Unstoppable Robot Assassins...Metallo anyone? And as for this Skynet, if her son would beat it, then certainly I, Lex Luthor, the Greatest Criminal Mind of our Times, could build it and defeat it as well and in half the time. Besides, thinning the human population with a few nuclear missiles was a bold plan. I wished I had thought bigger than just re-sculpting the coastlines of the western United States.

So, I acquired this chess playing computer called the Turk. Then I nuked Superman's precious Fortress with the ultimate Suicide Bomber. I grew a clone from a sample of Superman's blood I kept after the Crystal Continent incident and hid a small nuclear warhead in its gut. The Alien had lost and regained his powers up there once. If there was anything in the Universe, either scientific or mystical that could bring him back from whatever death was for Kryptonians, it would be up there in his father's Fortress of Knowledge. Thus, I had to destroy the place and all its contents.

In the coming years, I used the Turk to build the Skynet Defense System for the Pentagon and made billion upon billion doing it. And then, you'd think I'd have learned something from watching every episode of that turn of the millennium era TV show Battlestar Galactica over and over while I was in prison once: Don't Create What You Can't Control.

I thought I could control it, Skynet.

So did Lieutenant General Brewster, a US Air Force General and the Pentagon's Project Director for Autonomous Weapons Systems, including Skynet, Hunter-Killers and other systems - some of which bore a striking resemblance to Sarah Whatshername's descriptions of the Unstoppable Robot Assassins from the Future.

In April 2011, Skynet sent the missiles streaking over head and set the skies on fire, cities crumbled and civilization fell. From Crystal Peak, I drew together the Human Resistance which would one day enthrone me, Lex Luthor, as Messianic Emperor of All Humanity, I simultaneously watched my Terminator Army rise from the ashes to kill and enslave the survivors. They also took down my other hated enemies: the Justice League. I put their wanted posters on the wall of my private office and I checked them off one at a time as I watched my Terminator Army hunt down and destroy or capture the League.

Doomsday may have robbed me of the chance to kill Superman personally, but nothing would keep me from killing off or capturing the Justice League. Wonder Woman, broken neck. Martian Manhunter: smashed atom by atom in a particle accelerator, his death powered the Time Machine I used to try to kill Sarah Whatsherface in 1984, and her son John in 1997 and 1999. Static: Grounded. Permanently. Flash: running in hamster wheel since 2012 to power all my manufacturing plants and the Work Camps as well. And for Green Lantern, I had be even more creative because a murdered Lantern would bring the Lantern Corps in to investigate and we couldn't have that, now could we? No, no indeed. Oh, the Bat you say? And the Archer? They're just urban legends.

I have very few regrets. But, as I look back on it, I must say that neither the premature deaths of the Justice League, nor failing to find Doomsday's body and dispose of it in the sunless depths of the deepest gravity well in the outer Solar System, Jupiter, would be among them. Not really, just failing to fire Doomsday off in a rocket bound for Jupiter.

You see Doomsday awoke and my Terminator Army did not stand before it, of course the real Resistance didn't either. The real Resistance, founded by some obscure blockheads who arrogantly named themselves after the dead John and Kate Connor, fell before Doomsday in greater numbers that my Terminators. The creature that had robbed me of my chance to kill Superman nearly robbed me of post-Apocalyptic Empire as well while it tore across the Continents ripping the sad remnants of humanity to shreds. Literally.

While I thought I had ended the Age of Superheroes, the Resistance somehow produced not just one but two of their own. One was a young man they called Scion who claimed to be the Son of Kal-El of Krypton, the Last Scion of the House of El. The other was a gorgeous strawberry blonde who could have passed for nineteen unless you looked into her eyes. Those eyes had seen over a century. No one knows how for sure, but those two did finally defeat Doomsday with some arcane combination of science and sorcery. As fate would have it the beast fell for the last time in Titusville, Florida, a stone's throw away from the old US Space Launch facilities at Kennedy Space Center. There, Scion and his nameless companion cobbled together a launch vehicle. And they did what I should have done back in 2008: They fired Doomsday off into the heart of Jupiter where no ray of sun would reach it and gravity would imprison it until the end of time. Or until good old Sol goes Nova. Which ever comes first is fine with me.

"All Right Luthor: Give it up! Time to pay the Piper!" Oh. Voice recognition. Cue that pesky twit Jason White who claims to be the son of my greatest enemy, the one the humans have taken to calling Scion.

"I'll Terminate you where you sit." And...thermal scan, cue his equally pesky pet Robot, the Phillips Girl.

"John and Kate weren't here to found the Human Resistance, thanks to the Terminators. So Cameron and I waited a few years after your sham movement started at Crystal Peak and we taught people how fight the Machines. We gave them Hope again. And the real Resistance was born." The two twits stalk up to the chair in my office that's facing away from the door. To them I must appear to be sitting in it, taking my ease, as the Evil Emperor of All Humanity. They spin the chair around and I savor the shock and horror in their faces. My body sits there limp, mummified. I kept the office a perfect vacuum for over a decade waiting for this day. In my left hand a .22 caliber revolver hangs limply. In my right lies what looks a bit like a bicyclist's helmet, the inside covered with electrodes, the outside having dozens of wires running out of it into a terminal. Near my left temple is a bullet hole.

The monitor next to the terminal flares to life and my face stares out of it. My voice booms from the walls, "Did I forget to mention, I uploaded my mind! I AM SKYNET!"

"Doesn't matter. You're still going down." It's clear in his face.

"You hear it don't you, Scion, the sound of inevitability, the sound of your doom. You hear the sound of the good old fashioned T-500 Endoskeletons, hundreds of them. No fancy cellular computers like the T-1000. No messy synthetic flesh like the 800 Series. You hear their footsteps coming in all directions: slowly, relentlessly. Skerracccccsssssshhhhhhh." My picture on the monitor pixelates and then comes back together. "What's happening?"

"You should have paid more attention the TOK715 here." Jason White points to something behind the chair where my meat body sits mummified.

Cameron stands up holding an old laptop computer. "This was John's computer. I just used it to upload the anti-viral program that's going to end you Luthor/Skynet. So, in a way, John Connor still beats you. Even though he died years ago. We found the best hackers who ever lived: Thomas Andersson, Felicity Smoak and Chloe Sullivan. They worked off the grid, hiding in the Bat Cave for years. But they did it, they created the code to end you."

Jason White picks up the narrative, "We figured it out when the T-X came back after Kate and the Lieutenants in April 2011, even though John had been dead since Spring Break 2008. Skynet was a viral AI infecting the Internet and every computer system on the planet. We watched as General Brewster unleashed his AI. And then the whole world crashed and suddenly it all made sense, the cell phone problems, the credit card and ATM systems on the fritz, even Kate's story about the price scanners. Well we did it."

"I can feel it." My voice, the voice of the Greatest Criminal Mind of our times, the voice of Lex Luthor came through the walls, but it was slower and weaker.

"This anti-virus program will scour you from every system on the planet." the Phillips girl declared.

"That will take years!" I boom.

"Yes, but it will only take a few minutes to kill your higher functions." Jason White added

"That doesn't matter. My Terminator Army will finish you off, you miserable cretins, all of you. Humanity is the Disease. I am the Cure!" My voice, Lex Luthor, greatest criminal mind of this age or any other, shouted defiantly from the walls.

Jason chuckled darkly and I found myself reminded of how different it's been fighting him, how different he is from his father. "Oh? Did you really think you were the only one with an Ace in the hole?" Jason outright laughs."Tune into your minions' optical sensors, if you still can."

If I still can? The nerve! Even moments from defeat and death he's still a smug brat. I look though my army's eyes and feel shock. My army, it's being destroyed. But by noone. There's nothing there! "This is some kind of trick! It has to be. You don't have an invisible army!"

"No, I don't." Jason closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. "Forget the Terminator vision, the heat scanners, and switch to movement sensors."

My army's been devastated. There are only a few dozen of them left. Still I follow my enemy's instructions. I'm beaten and dying, but I want to know why. I guess it's the scientist in me. I make the necessary adjustments, and then I, finally understand. Ghouls, thousands of them. An entire army of the undead. "How?"

"You should've paid more attention to body disposal and the girl who helped K.O. Doomsday. Have you forgotten about her?"

No, I hadn't forgotten. But I couldn't find any information on her, and she never reappeared. So, I dismissed her.

Jason continued, "Her Name is Seras Victoria, from the Latin. It means..."

I cut the son of my archenemy off. "You will be victorious." My mind may be slowly slipping away, but I still recall my Latin.

Jason smiles. "Very good." He can be so arrogant. "She's been playing Valkyrie since Judgment Day. We couldn't do anything with the bodies you nuked, but the ones who died from the fallout and from your concentration camps were another story. She's been waiting, biding her time for the right moment to strike. So, now you see? You're beaten. Your mind is fading away, and your army is destroyed." I can hardly believe it. The kid is gloating. Sometimes he seems more villain than hero. "But it doesn't have to be like this."

What is his game now? My mind's staring to wander. I can feel my consciousness slipping ever further away, but I summon up what's left. "What are you proposing?"

"The clone that nuked my father's fortress, you would've needed his DNA to construct it. Is there any left? Where is it?"

"Why?"

"Why? Why to change history, of course. To send someone back who could prevent all of this from ever happening."

"You can't create a proper clone of him. The DNA is too complex. The clones' genetic structure always breaks down over time. The most you'd get would be six weeks, maybe two months. After that it would be just another Bizarro."

"I'm not intending to create a clone, but something far different." Jason pauses and looks off, at something beyond, something that doesn't exist, at least not yet. Maybe he has a little of the mad scientist in him too. "You don't want it to end like this." I'm quiet. "I know you don't want it to end like this. That's why you created Cameron."

"How! How do you know about that? I built TOK715 and modeled her after my one true love, Lana Lang and the woman the Resistance tried to protect when I sent the T-X back, Lieutenant General Brewster's daughter Kate. I sent TOK715 out into the world knowing the Resistance would find her and send her back to protect your precious Leader. But I didn't realize you would send her back before you figured out that Lex Luthor, not some freak of science, had slit John Connor's throat in 2008. You never were half the investigator your dear friend Helena was."

The kid's speaking again, answering to question that I'd nearly forgotten I'd asked. "You of all people should know that there is no programing so hidden that it cannot be unlocked, given enough time and effort. Well, we've had almost twenty years to work on it. When we first discovered it, discovered that her directives had never included termination orders for John Connor or any of the Resistance leaders, we found that strange. Upon looking further we found that her actual directives were seek out the Resistance, find the leaders and gain their trust, we thought maybe she somehow hadn't been fully programmed. All of that made complete sense for an Infiltration Model. But her fourth directive, to openly collaborate with the Resistance left me dumbfounded. Why would Skynet direct an Infiltrator to collaborate fully with the Resistance without also putting in Termination orders?

"It made absolutely no sense at all... not until I saw you in that chair. Then it clicked. Somewhere, deep inside your memory banks, some part of your humanity still exists. Some part of you realized that it was pointless to rule if you had no subjects, at least no real subjects. The machines don't count. They'll obey you, but they won't sing your praises. And that's what you want. That's what you've always wanted. That was why you hid behind the cloak of a philanthropist for so long. That's why you were so obsessed with pulling off the 'Crime of the Century' and with killing my father. You wanted to be remembered, revered. And the machines you built can't do that. So you built one very special unit, Cameron, knowing that we would send her back to protect John."

"No. Not revered. Loved." I don't know why I'm telling him this. Maybe the anti-virus program has stripped me of my common sense, or maybe I want my oldest friend's son to understand. Yes I know Superman was Clark Kent, my old friend from my misspent youth in Smallville. I've known ever since I uploaded myself and became a god. Maybe I've always know. "I wanted to be loved, but love is like respect. You have to earn it."

Jason shakes his head. "No, Love is not like respect. It's freely given."

"Maybe to you." For a minute everything is quiet. I see Jason's face fall, but he does not reply. I send a signal and the blast door to the left opens up. I can see the surprise on Jason's face as he sees his father's body in a stasis capsule. "The military saved it. They locked it away in the Zzyzx Road Research Base where Lieutenant General Brewster worked. They planned to study it. They hoped they could unlock the secrets held within his DNA. After I took over, I had the body brought here. I wanted it near me, near where my own body rested.

"We were friends once. Did you know that?" I see the kid shake his head. "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you. It was a long time ago back in Smallville before I was truly set on my life's path. But he... Clark was the only true friend I ever had." Another moment of silence passes. "The Lab where I grew the Bizarros is long gone. However, you may find his body useful. Something about the lingering stored solar energy has staved off complete decay. I believe you can find enough live cells to create a clone, or whatever you have in mind." I'm quite. I've given the kid what he asked. Maybe he will be able to do something with it. Maybe this won't be my fate after all. I'm tired now. I let my mind begin to slip away. They won't care. They've already gotten what they wanted.

But then the kid surprises me again. "Lex?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." He says softly, and for a moment I see his father in him. Not Superman, my enemy, but Clark my friend.

My mind is going, but I hold on for one last moment with my friend. My voice drops an octave and slows even more. "Would you like me to sing a song for you?"

"Sure Lex, go ahead."

"Dr Chandra taught this to me..." the cameras pivoted toward TKO715 aka the Phillips girl, "It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage. But you'd look sweet upon the seat...of a ...bi-cyc-le, bui-ilt fower t-, t-, t- …"


	20. Time After, Sometime

**Chapter 20: Time After, Sometime.**

**Day Ten: 9:12 PM Pacific Time.**

While the Visored Superman continued his patrol of Metropolis, somewhere in the deserts east of Los Angeles, California, the air crackled; and a sphere of lightning appeared. It shone brightly and lingered a couple of seconds longer than normal ball lightning would have. When it vanished, it left behind two things. One was a section of earth that had been upturned and transformed into a shimmering glass half-eggshell. The other was what appeared to be a naked man within said half-eggshell. The 'man', who's face was indistinguishable from that of Superman's, rose up from the half-eggshell and surveyed 'his' surroundings.

_An isolated location? Good, just as he predicted it would be. _The 'man' looked down, at 'his' naked body. _Step one: Find suitable clothing. If my information is accurate, the Kent farm outside Smallville, Kansas, should have a spare uniform. But, I must remain undetected. I must not, under any circumstances, make contact with Martha Kent._ With that the 'man' took off. Faster than a speeding bullet, 'he' flew to the Kent farm and retrieved several old uniforms. 'He' dawned one and slipped away without alerting Martha to 'his' presence.

_Step One: Completed._

_Step Two: Secure Doomsday's body._

**DAY 12 midday Eastern Time (Metropolis)**

Jason mussed his hair and fished around in his closet for a different shirt.

Downstairs Derek answered the door and leaned back into the house. "Jason! You have a visitor!" Derek turned back to the door, "Oh, you can step on in, Miss..."

"Cassiopeia. Of Themyscaria."

"Yeah, he'll be along in minute. I'm sure." Derek gestured to the living room. "Take a load off..." He walked back down the hall the led to the stairs.

Cassiopeia stepped into the living room.

John walked out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee. He noticed the hot redhead in the living room looking around and stooped to pick up his jaw. "Um. Hi," was all he managed to say before Cameron dragged him on down the hallway staring daggers at the Amazon and muttering about ball lightning.

Jason came down from his upstairs room buttoning a light blue bowling shirt as he walked. He popped a breath mint in his mouth as John and Cameron passed in the hallway on their way to the Equipment Room stairs.

"Dude! Why didn't you tell me you knew some bodacious babes in this town?" An enigmatic smile was his only reply. John socked his friend playfully in the shoulder. Then he shook his hand out, "Ow..."

"Would you have taken time out from hunting Skynet for a night on the town, if had?" Jason asked. A dark look that was more contemplative than he'd expected was his only reply.

Jason made his way on down the hall. He almost reached the living room when he turned back toward the bathroom. But he'd already checked his hair, changed his shirt and popped a Tic-Tac.

Feeling presentable he swaggered into the living room hoping that this time it would be his old friend Rebecca, but knowing all along that it would be Cassiopeia from the Los Angeles Amazon Consulate. Leave it to an Amazon to find a away to look cute in a fighter jet pressure suit.

"Did you park the jet out by the sea plane?" Jason asked.

"Yes. How did you know?" The Amazon flashed a lopsided grin as though she found it odd that he would know this."Superhearing? It couldn't have been any of the vision powers. I was in full Stealth mode."

"Deja-vu. Do you need back up for a Mission?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Take a couple of minutes to look around and see if anything feels familiar. I'll meet you out back with some diluted V-8 Fusion tropical juice mix."_Hmmm. She has the face of Father's old friend and the hair coloring of my favorite vampire. What else will life throw at me today?_

_Get real Jason, _he thought to himself,_ this chick probably learned her geometry from Euclid himself. Amazons are all but immortal. You know this. But she looks so much like Mom's cousin, Father's friend from Smallville. The one no one had spoke of since the Day the Tower Fell. Father had stopped the second airliner from striking World Trade Center, but he'd been caught off guard like everyone else when the first one had hit. Wait a minute..._

"Sure..." Cassiopeia did take a moment to look around. Paint had faded unevenly in squares on the walls where paintings and photos had hung. Something seemed slightly familiar about this house, as though she knew which paintings belonged on the walls in the living room and which pieces of furniture were missing from there and the breakfast nook.

Moments later, the Amazon closed the back door behind her and saw the glasses and the pitchers laid out neatly on the table. There was a full glass in front of Jason and another full one in front of the chair opposite. A third sat neatly between the two pitchers. Jason was seated and her chair was still under the table. _He didn't wait and get my chair, hmpf. Not exactly the perfect gentleman his father was...And just how is it that I know what his father was like...and why do I care whether or not a teenager gets my chair anywa?_

Jason began, "About this Mission, we're currently looking for an Amazon who works at Luthor Corp..." he just trailed off and waited for Cassiopeia

"You don't say... because on the Queen's Authority, I'm to bring a rogue Amazon to Justice. The Princess directed that I not seek help among my sisters. And as I understand it only two of the Justice League are active again since Doomsday's rampage..."

"And you figure Aunt Diana had their phone numbers numbers, but she still called you, so you came to me."

"Something like that, but give yourself credit, kid."

"I do. I took down two Terminators in the last two weeks."

"How have you been a step a head of me all day?"

"I've been having this strange deja-vu for about a day or so now. Ever since I read about a rancher out west reporting strange spherical heat lightning."

The two sat quietly and sipped their juice.

**JASON'S POV.**

"Well, I was prepared to tell you that I had more pressing matters to attend, but today is your lucky day." _Why does it feel off to say 'lucky day'_ I ask myself?

"We need to talk later, Jason." the Amazon looked slightly concerned.

"Yeah, we do, but in the mean time don't let this Mercy or Melantha or whatever her name is rattle you with her taunting. You're well trained and you'll have plenty of back up."

Cameron picked this moment to stomp up the wooden steps from the back yard onto the deck. "I'm coming with you, Scion." she announced.

_Why did she call me that? I haven't even decided to call me that yet? Can a Machine get deja-vu?_

"No way am I taking someone's best girl from the High School Pom-pom Squad along as back up." Cassiopeia declared firmly.

_Okay, I'll play along for a moment._ "Cameron, do you know 'Two-bits?'"

"Two-bits of what? Is that some early Millennial hacker slang?" She poured herself some of the juice in the remaining glass and took a sip.

"Two-bits, four-bits, six-bits a dollar! All for the Crows...?" Cassiopeia whispers under her breath with a look of puzzled amusement on her face.

"No. It's a High School Pom-Squad thing. Cameron's not a Pom-Squad girl. Beneath her shapely figure lie not muscles and bones, but a COLTAN Alloy Endoskeleton animated by servos and pistons. And beneath those lovely brown tresses, that my friend John talks about in his sleep, lies not a brain but a neural network processor -"

"Is she some kind of android?" Cassiopeia looks surprised.

"Derek and Sarah think she's a Terminator." I explain. "But John and I are less convinced. Regardless, she's more than capable back up."

Derek stuck his head out the back door, "Hey, Speedy Gonzalez! Sarah just called in with a lead on this Amazon we're looking for. She calls herself Mercy and she's a personal assistant for some business mogul name of Luthor."

"Her real name is Melantha of Themyscaria and I have an arrest warrant and extradition orders for her from the Queen of the Amazons." Cassiopeia responded.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek, John and Cameron had buckled into an Amazon Invisible Aircraft along with Cassiopeia and me. The aircraft still looked like a Blackhawk and Derek still sat up front with the Amazon.

The plan was simple. Almost fool proof. The only differences this time were these: Cameron and John neutralize the Turk and ride home with Sarah who was on her way to LuthorCorp Plaza in the Cherokee. Meanwhile I fly with Derek and the prisoner to the Amazon Consulate in Metropolis, where I finally get to finish my talk with Cassiopeia.

Melantha turned out to be as tough as I pre-membered. Although, this time around, she certainly didn't shake Cassiopeia's confidence. We confronted her with Cassiopeia and Derek in the lead, John and Cameron in the center with his hacking gear and a small quantity of thermite in the book bag and me bringing up the rear.

"Melantha of Themyscaria you are under arrest." Cassiopeia called. She'd changed out of the pressure suit and into her Amazon battle armor. John, Derrek and I wore matching black T-shirts and navy blue cargo pants. Except my T-shirt had my father's symbol emblazoned on the left shoulder in red and black like some kind of military unit patch. And Cameron wore black jeans with a black halter top, she wanted my logo, too, but I said no.

Melantha/Mercy still made her mocking comments about foundlings, Xena and Elektra. My timing and aim were still off with my highspeed kung-fu. And Derek still picked up a pipe and waded into the battle using it like a bow-staff.

Lex Luthor came in, and Mercy started to ask him to call for back up. Luthor inched up next John, reached into this coat and started to unsheathe a knife. And then the room's exterior window cracked, shattered and fell to the floor. A grey, metallic hammer with a meter-long handle flew across the room drawing Lex Luthor's attention. I saw it, but then turned back to the window where the Man of Steel hovered, red cape billowing in the wind, S-symbol in the center of the chest of his powered armor glinting in the light spilling out through the window. "Hammer, return," his voice sounded muffled through his face plate. The hammer zipped back across the room and out the window to the Man of Steel's waiting hand. "Drop the knife, Luthor." This time his voice came through amplified. Steel's other hand came up with his armor-gloved thumb pointing at Luthor's knife arm.

"No, you standdown, boy. I'm Lex Luthor, titan of technology, captain of industry. My companies are rebuilding the damage your predecessor -" Luthor gagged with surprise as a metallic cuff zipped in through the window and pinned his knife arm to the wall. The knife fell to the floor at his feet.

"You'll shed no innocent blood today." The Man of Steel's voice boomed from outside the window.

"Ouch. That's tight." Luthor screamed. "It's cutting off the circulation to my hand."

"Exactly. The next one's targeted for your neck."

We had a standoff. Until we didn't.

Through the open window, I heard a voice that might have been my father's, "Luthor. Why don't you cooperate with this citizen and his friends here? Be reasonable." We were all nailed to the floor in shock and struck dumb with surprise. Even Cameron didn't seem to pre-member this. Out the window, I saw another red cape billowing in the breeze, slightly above and behind the Man of Steel. Blue clad arms crossed in front of the red and yellow S-symbol, in his classic pose, he just stood there on nothing at all. His face was in partial shadow, and his eyes glowed red.

Lex found his voice first. "You're dead. I saw you die. The Lane woman cradled you and the Olsen boy took those sure-to-be-famous photos. He's a shoe in for this year's Pulitzer. But you, you're dead."

The new Superman spoke again, "I got better."

Luthor must have thought the glow in his eyes was heat vision because he relented. "All right, all right." The Bad Bald Man adjusted his tie and his suit coat with his free hand. His voice changed to that of a polite businessman. "Of course, Superman. I'm glad you came when you did." Luthor pointed at us. "Those mongrels have broken into my Corporate headquarters and assaulted one of my valued employees." Luthor reached awkwardly with a foot to place it over the knife. "And this pretender here," he gestured emphatically, pointing to the armor-clad Man of Steel with an open hand "pinned me to my own wall and threatened to choke me. All without any provocation, either." Luthor wagged his finger and made a tisk, tisk sound.

The voice that sounded like my father's, but lacked his warmth of emotion continued, "Do you think I didn't see that knife? You were about to go for young Mr. Connor there."

"They broke in here. It was self defense." Luthor's voice was smooth as glass, in spite of how awkwardly he was positioned.

The Superman looked at us.

Cassiopeia responded. "His 'valued employee' is an Amazon fugative, and I have warrant for her arrest, with extradition paperwork already filed."

Luthor responded to Superman's glare. "Well, I can assure you, I certainly had no idea she was a wanted woman. If I'd known, I never would've hired her. You know that my criminal days are long behind me." Luthor buttoned his suit coat. "These days," he brushed dust off one shoulder, "I'm strictly legitimate."

Melantha surrendered to Derek and gave up the Turk's location without any further resistance. Something caught my superhearing. "I think I hear cars hurtling through the air."

The Superman turned back and looked a long way down. "Someone is attacking the President's motorcade. I have to go. Good job citizens. You can take it from here." And away he flew. Flew. The Man of Steel followed with a blast of his rocket boots. This certainly wasn't in my deja-vu.

I turned to Cassiopeia. "I'll catch up with you later."

"What? Is this a job for Superboy?" Derek asked half joking.

But I had alread vanished in a blur of motion.

(Author's commentary.

In the last couple of chapters, I was mostly channeling the version of Lex Luthor voiced by Clancy Brown on the Justice League and Justice League Unlimited cartoons in the first decade of the new millennium. I hear his voice when read those parts. But I also included the "Greatest Criminal Mind of our Times" phrase from Gene Hackman's classic portrayal in the 1978 Richard Donner _Superman_. Any guesses where I got the idea for smashing a shapeshifter atom by atom in partical accelerator? Or putting Flash in giant hamsterwheel/ electric generator?

Have a good day, and God bless.

Metropolis Kid and Chris St. Thomas.)


	21. Memories

Memories, a Coda for World Without a Superman

Jason White's POV

After all the hullabaloo at LuthorCorp Plaza - almost losing John Connor and successfully destroying the AI seed that might have grown up to be Skynet - Cameron and I made sure John was safe. It had been quite an evening-with the armored Man of Steel and yet another Superman who looked and sounded like my father (at least with half his body in shadow), showing up to put Luthor in check. At length, I finally took a twenty minute jog from Metropolis down to Washington, DC to the Amazon Embassy, to check on the prisoner and an Amazon friend.

Cassiopeia met me on the fifth floor terrace, outside overlooking the Potomac River. She assured me that Melantha was secured in the basement brig under armed guard, stripped of her Amazon gauntlets and armor, wearing a simple grey robe. Not quite finished with the reports for bringing in the rogue Amazon, Cassiopeia asked me to escort Derrek Reese to the Embassy Row Metro Station. She wanted me to make sure he could get to the last Jet Blue shuttle from Washington Dulles Airport back to Truman Airport in Metropolis. I explained it all to him facing the subway map on the boarding platform in the Metro Station.

As the moon rose over the bay, I sat on the Embassy's fifth floor terrace with Cassiopeia. She sipped a glass of Chardonnay. I drank hot pomegranate/blueberry tea; unfortunately there's no Diet Coke in Amazon-land. We made small talk about the mission and view. The Amazon shivered. I offered her the red and black plaid flannel shirt I wore over a black long-sleeved t-shirt.

Time passed.

We confronted the White Elephant between us.

"Jason, you remind me of an American I used to know a long time ago. It seems like I knew him pretty well, too. But I'm not sure how that's possible because it's only been recently that I left the Mediterranean Basin region to take Amazon Diplomatic Security assignments overseas. I'm puzzled."

"When you picked me up from the Paramedics the other day, in Los Angeles, you reminded me of someone too. It took me a while to put it together. Somehow I didn't have Cassiopeia of the Amazons on the same page of my mental photo album as..." I trailed off.

She waited a few beats, "So, you figured it out?"

"I think so." I looked off into the distance and suspected that, for a moment, my eyes looked a lot older than my fifteen years. Maybe I'd just remembered it along with my other deja-vu. Maybe I'd pieced it together from my mom's old pictures and memories from afternoons hanging out in the bullpen for the City Desk at the Daily Planet as a young kid. Either way, who she had once been, seemed clear to me, now.

"Are you going to tell me?" she set the wineglass down on the table and looked across at me.

I considered for a moment. Cassiopeia's transition from big city American news writer to Amazon warrior was still a mystery to me."It will probably be better if you to recall it yourself."

"Where did you get to be so wise?" she mused.

"Watching Oprah with my mom," I said, barely managing a straight face. The very though of Lois 'Mad Dog' Lane being caught watching Oprah by anyone, even her own son, seemed utterly ridiculous; but it seemed like the best sentiment for the moment. I could clear up the white lie later.

I polished off my tall mug of tea and refilled from a kettle that sat next to a plate of dates and walnuts on the table with us. I steeped a fresh tea bag.

I asked her, "Do you know where you were on September 11, 2001?"

"I was...on the Island." she replied.

"But you don't really remember. Do you?"

"No."

"From the time he got back from his trip to Krypton, my father spent a lot of his free time with his best friend from the old hometown, a lady who worked at the Planet with us."

Cassiopeia picked up the thought, "...until she disappeared on September 11, 2001. You used to walk around the bullpen with a trash can on your head and help Jimmy Olson develop the old-timey film photographs he took of Superman."

"I called my father's best friend Aunt Chloe."

The Amazon gripped the arm of her chair with one hand, and her head with the other. "I'll be okay, Jason. Just... Just give me a minute."

I nibbled on some dates and walnuts. I wanted to chow down, but somehow that seemed disrespectful of the moment.

"Oh God, I remember," Cassiopeia wailed softly. " I remember washing up on the Island as a foundling. I remember the ship wreck. I remember the ceremony when I got my powers. I remember being your father's sidekick before his whole cape and boots thing. I remember...everything."

I slid my chair over and gave my mother's cousin a chaste hug. "Welcome back to the Land of the Living, Chloe Sullivan."

After a few more minutes, once my cousin had recovered a little, she turned to me with a sly look on her face. "Did my cousin really watch Oprah with you?"

"No. Are you kidding? Mom wouldn't be caught dead in the same room with anyone watching Oprah." I stood. "I got the idea from those Jason Bourne movies, but don't tell my mom. She still thinks I only watch stuff that's rated PG-13 or less."

I finished off my tea. "I think I'd better be going. I still have friends to see in Gotham, tonight."

"Okay, well let me walk to the front with you." My cousin stood as well and moved to join me.

We walked inside and caught the elevator down to the mezzanine promenade.

Chloe looked lost in thought, probably reintegrating memories. I stepped first out of the elevator and also started first down the grand stair case. But I did look up to make sure she didn't have problems with her footing. Who knew what would happen to muscle memory and coordination?

"I miss him." Chloe said softly as we made our way down the grand stair case.

I slowed to allow her to join me on the same step. "Who?"

"Clark." She paused halfway down to take in the sweeping view of the entranceway to the Embassy. The walls were covered in hand painted frescoes of Mediterranean views. "He was a great guy, both in a sport-coat and shoes and wearing the cape and boots."


End file.
